Zebulon found himself without another choice. What was he going to do, ask Tobias for his thoughts for the millionth time? Vent at his husband for time one million and one? Call his parents with an absolute nonsense story that they seemed to barely understand beyond the fact that the guy who had read the ceremony at Zebulon and Diryas' wedding was suddenly impossible to reach? (And his brother was in and out of relationships so often that he wouldn't have anything useful to say in that regard.) He didn't have anything new to say to any of them, and they had nothing new to say back.

Elliot had been missing for months. Nothing about that particular fact changed. Suddenly thought himself better than them or something, he guessed. Was focused more on his priesthood than the fact that he had three men waiting at home -- which sounded like an impossible statement all its own, but nevertheless. Found some better people to ******** that tolerated all of his strange idiosyncrasies, starting with the fact that he literally was a g-ddamn priest?

In theory, he could go call a crisis helpline and talk to an actual therapist instead of those important or something, but it wasn't like he was in crisis. No reason to take those people's assorted attention from those who actually needed it, like one of the myriad people in this forsaken city that would wake up to find out their relative had been found dead or at the very least injured and unconscious in a park somewhere.

Dead could have been him a year or so ago, really. Two years ago? Whatever year this year claimed to be? A few years ago, too. Agents seemed to keep finding him for some reason and he kept escaping by the skin of his teeth.

Ugh. He would wonder if Elliot disappeared because of similar circumstances, dying at the hands of the damn agents, but that clearly wasn't the case. Father Isaac of whatever order of priests he was in was as present at his holy ceremonies as ever. Zebulon had half a mind to show up at mass and make a g-ddamn scene.

He wouldn't.

Instead, he pulled up to a bar--and very specifically one the quartet of them did not make a habit of going to, because as much as he wanted to make a scene he wouldn't jeopardize one of his husbands in that way--though considering how long it had been since Elliot had even responded to a text of his, who knew what his usual haunts were at this point--and plopped himself at the bar. The usual interactions occurred, and Zebulon moved through them, saying that he did want a drink when asked and grabbing himself a rum and coke. He accepted the offer of opening a tab because he might be there for a while, and let the bartender wander off to their next customer.

After a few sips and a lull in the bartender's customers, he casually waved them back over.

"Barkeep!"

"It's Jessi," they replied, leaning over the bar. "What can I do you for?"

He felt like the positioning was meant to draw attention, but his mind was everywhere but on the body of the person in front of him. "So, hear me out. Can I get some advice?"

As if realizing this was a different conversation almost immediately, Jessi's form shifted, standing a bit less provocatively and moreso choosing to simply lean her weight on the counter. She gave him an askance glance as she responded in kind, "I'm a bartender, honey. This is my job."

"No no." Probably thought he was here for some my girlfriend broke up with me s**t. Or boyfriend. The honey made him think that maybe she had caught the vibes before he had even said anything else. "You'll think I'm out of my mind by the end of this."

Her laugh was harsh. "You'd have to say a lot to shock me--"

Maybe, but this one was a new one, he was pretty sure. He wasn't sure how many gay guys showed up at the bar asking for advice of this variety.

"Okay, so." But she was rapt nevertheless. Zebulon figured she was good at her job if anything. "I have," Elliot had long acknowledged what it was between all of them, but it would take a bit to explain the finesse, "let's just say it's a situationship." Her brows rose. "But I haven't heard from the guy for a while--"

"So he ghosted you."

"Hang on, hang on." Her response was just a bit too fast. He was probably sounding like a jilted lover who had gotten used and dumped, as it were. Zebulon wouldn't quite deny that. "Normally that'd be true. But sometimes he lives with me, and he gets kinda busy."

"Doing?"

"Well, he's a man of the cloth."

Jessi was finally not talking at the fastest clip she could, and Zebulon was fairly sure he felt eyes on him. He'd ignore that. Hopefully, Father Isaac didn't have any alcoholic priest friends. "Wait wait." And there it was. "Are you like an ex-Catholic? Is this a priest kink--"

"No no!" If Elliot was there, he'd be recoiling into a ball right then and there. "Catholicism isn't really my concern. See, I'm Jewish."

The bartender was not offering any advice. She was instead looking increasingly intrigued. "Wait wait wait. So you're in a relationship--"

"Situationship."

"Situationship with a priest. Who lives with you." Seeing Zebulon's facial features shift probably was what caused her to shift that to, "Sometimes. And this isn't some weird priest kink because you're Jewish."

This was a ******** mistake. Unlike therapists and even priests in confession, bartenders were not sworn to not be very interested gossips.

"Yes."

"And you sleep with this guy." The bartender started mixing a drink for someone else who was definitely also listening in. Zebulon didn't like that. He should have picked one of those super dead old people bars that died off after all of them went to bed at like, ten. "When he's not busy being a priest."

"How is a priest in bed, anyway?" asked the guy next to him, curiosity in his tone. "He can't possibly really know what he's doing with that whole vow of chastity s**t they're expected to keep, right?"

"Don't worry about it!" Zebulon could only do the best he could to stop this in its tracks before anyone else got curious and the priest with the atheist Jewish guy became the talk of the town. It was already too late, though, with her getting out her cell phone and opening her notepad application.

"Hang on I gotta write this down--"

"No no, I'm not drunk enough for you to do that--" he needed about another five stiff drinks before he would get chatty enough to let her write it down as he spoke--

"Don't worry Prof," oh no, now his cheeks were burning, and it wasn't the ******** alcohol. It honestly couldn't kick in fast enough. "I gotta hear how this s**t ends. Get him a vodka tonic on my tab!"

"Gladly!" She started mixing that too, before adding, quieter, "Gotta get him to get that all out before I fall asleep here..."

Zebulon's brows knit. That wasn't something he was expecting to hear with the way she had been so excited just a moment ago. "Am I boring you?"

"No, not in the slightest. What does this priest look like anyway? He's gotta be a younger guy, right? You're not shacking up with a monsignor or anything, are you?" She yawned openly, shaking her head rapidly as if to wake herself up. While she looked confused, Zebulon was keying into something that might just save his a** while also causing this evening to get a lot more interesting for different reasons. As she spoke again, his eyes drifted to other people in the bar, looking for any signs of unexpected and unexplained exhaustion. That woman over there was dancing terribly slow for the speed of the song playing... "Sorry! Must be about time for me to go on a break here."

"I'll keep him talking if you need to go, Jessi." Oh, that was enough.

"No, that's okay!" Zebulon swiped up the vodka tonic from the counter and quickly got out of his stool. One of the others nearby was yawning too. He had seen enough drainings to tell him something chaotic was happening there, and it was his perfect opportunity to use it to bolt. "Thanks for the advice, Jessi," or not, considering he hadn't heard a single damn piece of ******** advice since he started talking, "but I gotta go to the bathroom. Think I drank too ******** much."

Professor Castaneda had absolutely not drunk enough to spill the details about his affair with Father Isaac, much to the disappointment of Jessi, the guy who had scooted closer to him, and the apparent student from his department.

He had drunk enough to slip into the bathroom and power up without stumbling, though.