This city was built by demons.

He was about to ask someone for directions when movement caught his eye.

A familiar figure crossed the sidewalk.

Lucien froze.

Chuck.

Immediately, Lucien ducked behind a concrete pillar like the world's least qualified spy.

Another man walked beside Chuck laughing loudly.

"Hey, Casey. Business good lately?"

Lucien blinked.

Casey?

Chuck laughed.

"Little bit."

Lucien's eyes widened slowly.

Hold on.

Hold on.

That man's name wasn't even Chuck??

Lucien peeked carefully around the pillar as both men entered a dark bar near the corner.

His heartbeat sped up.

Okay.

That felt illegal.

Very illegal.

Lucien yanked out his phone and called Leon immediately.

Leon answered almost instantly.

"Yu'an?"

Lucien's brain malfunctioned for one embarrassing second.

Focus.

Focus.

"You still looking for the fake ticket sellers?"

A pause.

"Yeah."

"I think I found them."

Leon went silent.

Lucien spoke quickly.

"One of them's Jamie's boyfriend. Except apparently his name isn't Chuck, it's Casey? And there's at least one other guy with him."

Leon's voice changed immediately.

Lower.

Sharper.

"Location."

Lucien gave the address.

"Stay where you are," Leon said instantly. "Do not go inside."

"I wasn't planning to—"

"Yu'an."

Lucien shut up.

Leon exhaled quietly.

"I'm serious. Wait for me."

Then he hung up.

Lucien crouched near the wall outside the bar.

Then realized crouching openly looked suspicious.

So he moved behind a planter and crouched there instead.

Better.

Now he looked like a nervous little garden gnome.

Time passed.

His legs started hurting.

Lucien checked his phone.

Then checked again.

Then—

An engine roared down the street.

Lucien looked up instantly.

Black motorcycle.

Huge.

Sleek.

Aggressively expensive.

And Leon was on it.

Of course he was.

Of course this man arrived everywhere like a Batman reboot.

The motorcycle stopped hard near the curb.

Leon pulled off his helmet and strode toward him immediately.

Lucien opened his mouth.

Leon reached down, grabbed his arm, and hauled him upright effortlessly.

One hand.

Again.

Honestly humiliating at this point.

Leon's eyes swept over him quickly.

"You hurt?"

Lucien blinked.

Then shook his head obediently.

"No."

Leon's shoulders loosened slightly.

Lucien pointed toward the bar.

"They're still inside. Black hat. Eagle tattoo. I stayed here the whole time."

Leon looked toward the door.

"Stay outside."

Lucien looked at his numb legs.

"Again?"

Leon glanced back once.

"Two minutes."

Lucien did not believe that for a second.

Still, he nodded.

Leon walked into the bar.

Lucien waited.

For approximately thirty seconds.

Then something crashed inside.

Lucien flinched hard.

Another crash followed.

Okay.

So.

Maybe not two minutes.

Lucien crept toward the entrance and peeked inside.

The bar wasn't crowded.

Most people had backed against the walls staring toward the center of the room.

Leon stood there surrounded by three men.

Correction.

Two men.

One was already on the floor.

Casey lunged first.

Leon moved fast.

One kick.

The guy flew backward into a liquor shelf with an explosion of broken glass.

Lucien's jaw dropped.

Holy shit.

It actually looked like a movie.

Not a normal movie either.

One of those expensive action movies where the lead actor definitely refused to wear a shirt for at least forty percent of filming.

Leon looked terrifyingly calm.

That somehow made everything worse.

No yelling.

No wasted movement.

Just efficient violence.

Within another minute, Leon had grabbed a decorative rope from the wall and tied the men together like deeply unfortunate Christmas decorations.

Then he looked up.

Straight toward the entrance.

Toward Lucien.

Their eyes met across the wrecked bar.

Broken glass glittered across the floor between them.

Leon's sleeves were shoved halfway up his forearms.

Lucien's heartbeat immediately started acting stupid again.

Unbelievable.

—

Police arrived soon after.

So did a crowd.

Apparently counterfeit ticket sellers weren't very exciting.

Leon Bolton kicking a grown man through a liquor shelf absolutely was.

People gathered outside filming openly.

Leon's phone rang nonstop.

JOEY flashed across the screen over and over.

Leon ignored every single call.

Lucien stood beside the motorcycle staring at it openly.

"That thing is huge."

Leon glanced at him.

"Yeah."

"It feels illegal."

"Probably is."

Lucien looked at him suspiciously.

"…Can I sit on it?"

"Sure."

Lucien blinked.

"That easy?"

Leon's mouth twitched slightly.

"You planning to steal it?"

Lucien considered it briefly.

"No. I'm too weak emotionally for prison."

The motorcycle was extremely tall.

Lucien attempted climbing onto it.

Failed immediately.

Leon sighed once through his nose, grabbed his waist, and lifted him onto the seat effortlessly.

Again.

At this point Lucien was developing a complex.

"It's huge," he repeated weakly.

"You said that already."

Lucien ignored him.

Leon rested one hand against the seat casually.

"You can take it around the block."

Lucien stared at him like he'd suggested arson.

"Absolutely not. I can barely operate my delivery scooter."

Delivery.

Scooter.

Pizza.

Lucien froze.

"…My pizza."

He yanked out his phone.

Eight missed calls.

One voicemail.

Several texts written entirely in caps lock.

Lucien called his manager back with the bravery of a man approaching execution.

He got yelled at immediately.

Then informed his pay would be docked.

Amazing.

Wonderful.

Thriving.

Lucien hung up slowly.

"Well," he said. "The pizza belongs to me now."

Leon looked amused.

Lucien hugged the pizza box protectively.

"At least I have dinner."

"It's cold."

"So am I emotionally."

Leon snorted quietly.

Lucien looked at him suspiciously.

Did Leon Bolton just laugh?

No evidence.

No witnesses.

Couldn't prove it in court.

Lucien cleared his throat.

"Anyway. It's late. I should go."

"Yeah."

Silence.

Problem.

Lucien had been lifted onto the motorcycle.

Which meant he now had to get down.

The ground looked dangerously far away.

He could jump.

Maybe.

And break both ankles instantly.

Humiliating way to die.

Lucien considered his options seriously.

Then Leon said:

"I haven't eaten."

Lucien stared.

"…Excuse me?"

"Dinner."

Lucien narrowed his eyes.

This man absolutely wanted his pizza again.

Leon leaned against the motorcycle casually.

"You helped me tonight."

"It was nothing."

"And the fried chicken."

Lucien hesitated.

Leon added:

"I know a good Chinese place."

Lucien immediately scooted backward on the seat.

"Get on."

Leon looked at him.

Lucien looked extremely serious.

"We should leave now."

A tiny smile appeared near Leon's mouth.

Gone almost instantly.

Still counted.

Leon climbed onto the motorcycle.

"Hold on."

Lucien put on the helmet.

"I am holding on."

"To me."

"…Oh."

Problematic sentence.

Very problematic sentence.

The motorcycle launched forward before Lucien could emotionally recover.

Wind slammed into him instantly.

The city blurred around them in streaks of light and sound.

Lucien laughed before he could stop himself.

Actually laughed.

The sound got stolen immediately by the wind.

This felt insane.

Good insane.

Movie insane.

Everything insane.

Catching criminals was cool.

Watching Leon fight was cool.

Motorcycles were EXTREMELY cool.

Lucien spread his arms slightly and let the wind hit him full force.

For the first time in months—

he felt free.

Then he smelled barbecue.

Lucien's head snapped sideways immediately.

A small roadside grill smoked near the entrance of a park.

His soul ascended instantly.

"Wait WAIT WAIT—"

Leon slowed.

"You want food?"

Lucien nodded violently.

"Yes."

"What about the restaurant?"

Lucien pointed dramatically at the grill.

"Street skewers count spiritually."

Leon pulled over without arguing.

Ten minutes later, they sat on tiny plastic stools beside a smoking grill stand while Lucien experienced emotional healing through barbecue.

"This," Lucien announced seriously, holding up a skewer, "is also Chinese medicine."

Leon looked at the skewer.

"How."

"Acupuncture."

Lucien stabbed the air with it proudly.

Leon stared at him for a full three seconds.

"That makes no sense."

"It makes emotional sense."

Lucien took a huge bite.

Perfect.

Salty.

Spicy.

Smoky.

Home.

The plastic stools were too small for Leon. His knees bent awkwardly beneath the table, sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms.

Lucien glanced over accidentally.

Then accidentally again.

Then unfortunately a third time.

Leon hooked one finger under a soda tab and cracked it open.

Veins shifted beneath his forearm.

Muscle flexed cleanly.

Lucien suddenly forgot what flavor food had.

Oh, this was terrible.

Absolutely terrible.

A cold soda appeared in front of his face.

Lucien blinked and looked up.

Leon was watching him quietly.

"Thirsty?"