"WHAT THE FUCK, MAY?! What the fuuuck?" It was one of the gay dudes—screaming, like a little bitch. Meanwhile, Eotigan’s gang readdressed themselves fast. Inaia’s thong vanished into his front pocket. Inaia’s dress was somehow down before nobody could catch a glimpse of pussy.

Yet, two naked men—and their vibrant penises loomed in the penthouse.

"Shit." May the Eighth coughed. She managed to disappear off to a corner and reappear again in the same second with a river-wide blanket. She tossed it to the dudes.

Inaia, Kambili, and Thyra tried to divert their eyes to everywhere but the couch. They each had a withheld giggle struggling on their faces. Eotigan didn’t give a damn. He was smirking openly. "I know you’re fucking lying, what? Did we just stumble in on a secret fag?" He went on, regardless, doing a slow circle around the men who were both now struggling with the one blanket, "tell me, who paid for this shit?" He laughed. "You?"

He was pointing to the taller one of the dudes. He could not unsee them going at it, sucking like there was no tomorrow, he was dealing with it best as he could; transforming a revealed homo affair into a funny moment. May the Eighth, the concierge was filled with so much apprehension and embarrassment Eotigan could breathe it off of her.

He wondered why. She wasn’t the one caught eating pussy.

May moved briskly around the penthouse, picking up haphazard clothes tossed about, trying to manage the situation obviously. She had found a pair of breeches and walked to give it. The tall dude snatched it up, stumbling as he drew it up. His face was redder than strawberry juice. And he was mumbling randomly. Considering, the other fellow was more quiet and less bothered. It dawned on Eotigan fast, it was the giant whom had more to loose.

The man’s beard was doing him no favors either. Eotigan pointed, "you’re what? Forty? Forty five? It’s pretty obvious t’was you who paid for the penthouse. So I guess the question is, why?"

"Why what?" The bearded giant seemed to have found his voice once his dick was back in his pants again—still swollen and wet though from the other man’s mouth.

Eotigan walked up and sized him up. Against the rogue devil, the man was shorter. Eotigan gave further context. "Why the penthouse? Of every posh room you could pick, you take the topmost, most exclusive one? What is it you’ve got to hide, FRIEND?"

The man swallowed. Eotigan might as well have called him ’throatgoat’ the way his yellow eyes burned when he said friend. "I mean I get why you splurged for this...he’s pretty," Eotigan tossed a palm aside to the younger fellow still hard at it for his stocking, "...so I know you’re rich now, in addition to you secretly fuck men. And you can tell me to piss off or whatever, but we both know who’s got the other man’s balls in his hands here—figuratively speaking."

Eotigan looked the bearded man dead in the eye, a stranger two minutes ago. He beheld the ire and wrath pulsing just beneath the man’s twitching lids. Still he said with no inhibition, neatly finishing up his threat, "why would a man of dignitas like yourself seek to hide a male lover while simultaneously spoiling him? You have to tell me now, who are you?"

May stopped moving around. She spinned around, looking to break the ice, and preserve her job. "Found the shirt!" She announced. No one peeped her way. She tried again. "Maybe we should all sit down for a beat and—"

"SILENCE, MAY!" Both men’s hard basses cut her down. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

"Do I have a say in this?" The man scratched his long, fine beard. Eotigan had not blinked. "Do you?" he quizzed right back. He had to reply the man’s question with his; he knew the rules of a good power play, and right now he was King and Pope. Was he sorry he’d walked in on a fagging, and tried to spin blackmail? HEL MOTHERFUCKIN’ NO! This was the game of true plutocrats. If and when you did stumble on another capitalist douche in a moment of weakness, as this, you’d be wise to take advantage of it—because this gay dude had sure as shit done it to someone else to be standing right where he was, in the lavish scene of the Mayflower.

So, sorry, not sorry. If this made him asshole, he’d never claim not. He was in fact, a devil too.

The younger fella was dressed now but sat on the couch of passion looking up at Eotigan like he’d just asked his lover to cut off his own head, and hand it over.

"You’ve got two more seconds before I make another demand." said Eotigan coldly.

The bearded man’s face fell. "Ichabod Crane, the Master of Coin."

"Well, well, would ya hear that?" Eotigan smiled very much like a tiger just spotted a lonely zebra, "...the Master of Coin of the busiest island on the Cold Sea, third in command to the Governor of Colony himself." He looked around in the suave penthouse but let his golden eyes dwell longer on Inaia. She met his gaze square, already linked in his [psyche bridge]. She literally could tell his thoughts, and they spent some thirty seconds having their own private telepathic party.

[ DING! ]

[SYSTEM to HOST: This is good for us.]

[SYSTEM to HOST: Perfect for Mission II]

’Yeah, subservíena. You’re right. We just need to keep the faggot under heel, so that we can milk him for more Intel on the high society here, and if possible—’

[An introduction to the Governor.]

Eotigan smiled when Inaia finished his thoughts. It was settled. This bearded giant was about to become their bitch now. He turned his citrine pupils back to the man. He was saying, "I’ve given you my name and position. I’m guessing you’ll try to hold it over me as blackmail?" Eotigan just about snorted in the man, Ichabod’s snarling face. "You guess right, Maester."

He took a step forward to Ichabod, ignoring the literal smoke shooting out the man’s ears. "I’m thinking you are not new to this, considering how easily you folded," Ichabod tried to cop a say but Eotigan shut him down with a finger way, "nuh-uh, Master Crane. This must be your unlucky day—or night, rather. Because here I am, bittersweet karma on your ass. Now..." Eotigan loomed over him, though Ichabod was by no means a small man, "—fuck outta my penthouse."

The Master of Coin looked like he was going to explode. His voice peeled out like the whistling of an old hag’s kettle. "I am not gay. I am bisex—"

"Do I look like I give a shit?"

HNN-RROOOC!

The snort escaped May before she could stop it.

Ichabod was livid. He’d turned on a heavy heel, marching out, when Eotigan hit him again, "Oi! Maester, don’t forget your ladyboy now, eh?"

The girls—including May couldn’t cull their laughter. The fact that they bothered trying to stifle it made it burn Ichabod’s brain cells. He’d had enough. Fuming in briefs so tights they made veins on his thighs pop, the bearded Maester swooped around, lightning fast, pulling out the one last card up his metaphorical sleeves.

Ichabod’s switch from anger to actual attack was unexpected. The change in his physique that came with it even moreso.

One second, the Master of Coin was hollering and mumbling obscenities out the penthouse, the next he froze at the silver elevator and swished around so fast he was a blur. A blur, to May the concierge’s shocked eyes at least. To Eotigan and his [harem]—whom were all superabled, the Maester’s motions were perceived as it happened: his first transformation was the ears.

Ichabod’s full hair and beard got darker and wet, as if he’d been suddenly drowned in an icecold lake. His ears tapered into sharp points and the sick noise of bones breaking accosted his head. He showed expanding jaws, fangs blasting into his mouth; he suddenly looked like a shark was pushing out of him. To May the Eighth, distinguished concierge of the Mayflower Hotel, Ichabod Crane had simply turned and flown in the air, hands outstretched to Eotigan. But to the sinister devil he witnessed the Maester’s horror transfiguration, slowly enough to actually make a repeat conversation with Inaia in the [psyche bridge]:

’Werewolf, you think?’

[Ding!]

[Negative, Lord Host—]

[SYSTEM has detected a surge of blood thirst in the vessels of this current gnat.]

’Vampire, then.’ Eotigan confirmed with her, loving that she had called a restless, mad nosferatu a gnat.

[Ding!]

[ ARCANE RUNE ENGAGED! ]

[The Scythe of Charon equipped—]

’Nón, subservíena...’ Eotigan stopped her, before the Epic-grade sickle could materialize in his hand, "—allow me.’

The Master of Coin obviously now was a bloodsucker.

Ichabod Crane hurtled his agile body out of his initial position, streaming through the air like a human javelin. His bloodthirsty mind couldn’t fathom that Eotigan had seen him transform. His rage wouldn’t let him correctly appraise his ’prey’. It blinded him. Eotigan did not blame the filthy vampire. Even Arch-demons would struggle to follow an attack that quick and sudden. Rather he felt sorry for the man.

Ichabod rent out a brash hissing:

RAAARGGGHHSSSHHHH!!!

THUNK—

Eotigan caught hold of his head four feet away. Ichabod’s jaw dropped, his monstrous fangs laid out. The undead Maester couldn’t believe his fucking eyes. His reaching claws lost their urgency. Some of the bloodthirst dimmed in his eerie all-black eyes. Snapping teeth halted. Lips trembled. "What the shit are you?"

Eotigan had a great, satanic smile waiting, "like I said, karma, bitch!"

Then he chucked the foolish vampire off like the gnat he was. It was one little slap. But Ichabod Crane rocketed across the room, smashing into the bathroom’s screen doors on the other side of the penthouse. The glass cracked slowly in a cobweb pattern. Ichabod came to after gaining his wits again. He touched his broken lip, then he looked to Eotigan—nonchalantly standing over that passionate couch, three hot girls flanking the man.

Eotigan had knocked out two fangs.

’That was just a slap?!’ Ichabod mused. He was already scrambling for the exit at the moment of this thought. He disappeared, ladyboy at his heels. One utterly quiet minute passed in the plush suite. May the Eighth gulped, quickly bowing her way out, "I’ll just go get that cold cream." She’d vanished before Eotigan could begin a nod. The elevator cab dinged close once again. A second later, Kambili, Inaia and Thyra burst out laughing.