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Tallak stared at him. “You did not just use the word romp.”
“That’s what you took away from all that?”
He was about to reply when another male demon slid onto the barstool next to Rhun and shook his head.
“What did you do this time,” Bahram—frequent patron of Nine Circles and casually acquainted with Tallak ever since they’d fought in the Baldwin House Battle together—said with a side glance at Rhun, “to get your nose broken?”
“Excuse me”—Rhun made a show of being offended—“I’m doling out invaluable advice to my new buddy here. It’s not his fault that he shows his undying appreciation with a forceful punch. Not everyone can be as cultured as me.”
“My fist,” Tallak threw in, “is dying to show you some more appreciation if you keep that up.”
Bahram leveled his gold eyes at Tallak, his expression fraught with sympathy. “He imposed his friendship on you, didn’t he?” The incubus sighed. “My condolences. You’re stuck with him now. See, he once decided he and I should be best friends, and despite my resolute resistance—”
Rhun snorted. “As if. You took to my bromancing like a love-starved puppy finding its forever home.”
“This verbal diarrhea-stricken idiot,” Bahram continued, ignoring the interjection with admirable nonchalance, “managed to attach himself to me, and I haven’t been able to shake him for close to a century now.”
“You never even tried,” Rhun said with a pout.
“You’re like kudzu, Rhun.”
“A digestive aid in Chinese medicine?”
Bahram stared at the bluotezzer for a long, tense moment, then he cracked up and clapped Rhun on the back. “You’re so lucky that I like you.”
Rhun preened.
“Is this the kind of dysfunctional friendship I can look forward to?” Tallak asked dryly.
“Yes,” Rhun and Bahram said in unison.
“Better get used to it.” Bahram shrugged.
“It’s easier if you just give in,” Rhun added with a sage nod.
Tallak massaged his temples. “You’re both completely crazy.”
Rhun leaned forward, clucking his tongue. “You pronounced fun wrong.”
A bellow interrupted whatever Bahram had been about to throw in.
“Ye fucking incubus bastard!” someone yelled from the front of the bar, and Bahram stilled, then slowly turned on the stool.
Towering over the patrons mingling between the bar and the entrance was a giant male demon—a faunus, judging by the two horns on his head—his irate focus riveted on Bahram as he made his way through the thinning crowd.
Rhun leaned toward Bahram. “Why does it seem like he’s coming for you?”
“I may have,” Bahram said with a wince, “slept with his mate.”
“I thought you don’t poach.”
“She didn’t tell me she was mated,” Bahram gritted out.
“Maybe you should vet your lovers better?”
Bahram had just enough time to shoot Rhun a dark look before the faunus ripped him off the stool and hurled him across the room, roaring like a pissed-off lion. Chairs and tables splintered at Bahram’s impact, glasses and bottles broke, and patrons yelled and shrieked in a cacophony of beautiful chaos. All around the room, melees erupted in response to the initial fight, like ripples on the water after a stone thrown into a lake.
“Brawl time!” Rhun squeed and dove headlong into the fray.
