“From Beauty and the Beast,” I mumbled. “Y’know, the Beast.”
A more substantial pause. “Is this your way of coming out as a furry?”
“What? No! Fuck you.”
“Dream on, gayboy.”
“I do, I really do, thinking of your bronzed and manly thews clenching around me in undeniable homosexual ecstasy.”
“My…thews are homosexual?” His ears had gone pink.
“By association when they’re clenched around me.”
“Look.” He did have an excellent, firm voice, a little bit football captain, a little bit headmaster. “Can we go back to you fancying animals, please?”
“I don’t fancy animals. The Beast is only symbolically bestial.”
“I know I’m a scientist and therefore don’t understand these complex literary motifs, but it looks pretty literal to me when he’s beating up wolves and roaring.”
“Okay, so he’s protective, passionate, strong—”
“—has a tail.”
I gave him a look. “Has clearly suffered but is not less deserving of love for that.”
“Yeah, but what kind of prick denies a beggar woman a loaf of bread?”
“What kind of beggar woman rocks up at the front door of a palace? That’s like a Big Issue seller getting pissy because the queen doesn’t carry cash. Also, the Beast’s got his own dungeon. I respect a man with all the conveniences.”
Nik tried to laugh again, and it came out like a rusty gate in a gale.
I winced for him and eyed my wine guiltily. “Um, can I get you something? You sound grim.”
“Sounds worse than it is.” He shrugged in this noble I’m going out for a walk and may be some time sort of way. “I just feel bad for letting the telethon down.”
“We’re doing okay. And I spoke to this guy named Caspian Hart, who’s apparently super-rich. That could come to something.”
Nik’s eyes went wide. “Caspian Hart? Seriously?”
I made what I hoped was a modest, l’il ol’ me gesture.
“You don’t know who he is, do you?”
“Of course I do! It said on the sheet. He’s like a finance guy or something.”
“Arden, he’s a big deal and famously unapproachable. He’s the second youngest self-made billionaire on the Forbes list. He’s been on the cover of TIME and everything.”
“Well, y’know, so’s Donald Trump.”
“And,” Nik added resignedly, “he’s really hot.”
Ah. That was more like it. I put down the wine bottle and reached for my laptop.
“I mean, if you’re into dicks. Literally and metaphorically.”
“He wasn’t a dick. A bit…intimidating maybe. But I guess if you’re that awesome, you would be.” My cheeks were getting warm just remembering the conversation. “He was kind to me, actually.”
“You’d have to be a monster not to be. It’d be like kicking a kitten.”
