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“I think you were,” Elliott said. “I think you were just in a bad place and needed a hand. Why didn’t you let yourself live a little? Enjoy things again?”

This conversation was heading down a rabbit hole Niko would rather avoid, but he wanted to be honest, too.

“I did have a hand extended to me. Zann was there through the whole thing. He bought me the suit and even tried to encourage me to try hunting again eventually. He checked in on me constantly, tried to keep my spirits up. But I don’t know.

I think I was just struggling too much to adjust to, uh, how things were now.

I think some part of me didn’t want to let myself enjoy anything. ”

Elliott eyed him oddly. “So, a self-punishment.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“I’ve been there too, Niko.”

They weren’t so different. Elliott was digging into himself for not having done more, not having been able to save his sister.

Niko knew the feeling well. To this day, he still felt he should have been able to prevent the deaths of his own family too.

He hated that Elliott had to know that particular torment.

“You haven’t done anything you should punish yourself for,” Niko said, meeting his gaze. Elliott only stared back at him for a long moment. Then he refilled his glass and helped himself to another swallow.

The conversation lulled to a somber quiet that Niko hated.

He didn’t want to lose the light that had been held between them moments before, so he pivoted.

“Before the fall, though, you know, I was a little crazy. I used to live for hunting. I felt the most alive when I was doing it. But between jobs, I hung out at a lot of bars and parties in Dainna, or places just like it. Got in a lot of fights that both resulted in me being knocked on my ass and knocking other people on theirs. Got a lot of tattoos. Drank a little too much. You probably would have hated me if we’d crossed paths. ”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to assume,” Elliott said.

“Yeah?”

“You’re rather…” Elliott eyed him up and down. “Exciting. And sweet underneath all that hard armor of yours. You were just my type, actually. I go weak in the knees for sweet men. And I may have been craving some excitement in my life.”

Just not the kind you ended up getting, Niko thought morosely. He wished they could have met before. That he could have spared Cleo and Elliott the painful fates they’d both met. He pushed the thought away; it was just another of many impossibilities he wished had turned out differently.

“I take it you didn’t ever really go too wild, huh?” Niko smirked.

“Sometimes,” Elliott admitted. He took another drink of champagne. “I got around a little. Everyone has needs, I suppose.”

“Did you date a lot?” Niko asked.

“No. Not at all. The only person I ever dated before you was Liam.”

Niko winced at having accidentally tread into a potential landmine there.

Liam was a sore spot, he knew. He couldn’t help himself, though—the words poured out of his mouth before he could change the subject.

“Wait, what? You seriously never dated anyone else?” He couldn't imagine throngs of people not clamoring over one another to have a chance with both beauty and intellect like Elliott’s.

“No. I slept with guys, but I just kept my distance. I did have a three-month fling with a lovely Gheroun man once, though.”

“Did—” Niko had to ask. “Did he use his tenta—”

“Of course he did,” Elliott said primly, helping himself to another sip.

“ Damn . Nice.”

This time, Elliott smirked at him. He looked Niko up and down. “And what about you? You must have gotten around the block a few times. Especially with looks like those.”

Niko was thrown off balance by the compliment. He couldn’t help but grin. It felt nice to hear Elliott found him attractive. “Actually, no.” It seemed they’d both had assumptions about one another. “I dated around a bit, but I can’t do one-night stands.”

“What? Really? Why not?”

“I don’t know.” Niko shifted his weight.

“It just doesn’t do it for me, unless I have some kind of emotional connection with someone first. Like, I have to get to know them a little, at least. I have to have something there.

I mean, don’t get me wrong. I still find strangers physically attractive.

But I don’t want to have sex with them. If it’s just a stranger, I have no interest at all. ”

Elliott swallowed down the rest of his champagne. “You seemed quite interested in me on Uula.”

“Well, yeah. You weren’t a stranger to me.”

Elliott met his eyes and smiled, something both exceptionally warm and a little sensual. Wherever they were in this galaxy, when Elliott looked at him like that, Niko felt like he was home.

“Oh, hey,” Niko said. He cleared his throat. “I almost forgot. I got you a present, too. You’re going to love this. You won’t believe what he had hanging in his living room. Like, seriously.”

Elliott reached over and refilled his glass yet again.

It surprised Niko. He was so used to the carefully controlled Kestrel —the assassin, the tactician—that he was fully unprepared for the ruddy-cheeked lush sitting across from him.

Was this how Elliott had been, before any of this?

Someone who drank a little bit too much?

Someone who really let himself go, sometimes?

It didn't seem right, didn't match up with anything Niko had observed, nor what Elliott had shared about his past. There wasn’t a drop of alcohol at the facility, save for what was in the first aid kits. And none of that had been touched, nor tampered with.

Maybe this was just a rare moment for Elliott to really feel safe and allow himself to let go a little, just once. The thought made Niko’s chest warm.

He liked being able to make Elliott feel safe.

“Well?” Elliott asked, taking another swallow. “Are you going to just stare, or show me?”

“Right.” Niko pulled the wooden sign from where it had been hidden from view on one of the empty chairs at the table. Three big, gaudy, painful words were carved into it:

Live, Laugh, Love

Elliott burst into laughter, sounding absolutely given to weightless delight in a way Niko had never heard from him before. “What a basic bitch!” he scoffed.

Niko couldn’t help the grin that crept onto his face; when a little bit drunk, Elliott started sounding rather campy.

“Must have been easy for him to say, when he could piss credits and do whatever he wanted to poor people,” Elliott continued. His words carried a mild, lax slur to their edges now.

“Yeah. Tell me about it.” Niko turned the sign over in his hands and looked at it. It truly was a hideous and generic work of art. Cnrys must have seen this as the absolute pinnacle of human monoculturalism.

“This has to go in the Murder Room,” Elliott said.

Niko was glad they were like-minded in that idea. “Oh, for sure. I was hoping you’d say that.” He put the sign back down, laying it against the wall this time.

“Though, I might make a few modifications.” Elliott swirled the remainder of his champagne around, but set the flute back onto the table, unfinished.

“So,” he said, sea-green eyes nowhere but on Niko now, his voice barely more than a breath.

“You want me to fill that pretty mouth of yours? You made dinner, so I’ll provide dessert. Crème de la crème .”

The collar of Niko’s suit grew hot. He could already feel his pulse hammering in his throat, his whole body awake and alive.

He could imagine it already—the taste, the texture of Elliott filling his mouth, his throat.

He felt achingly empty, suddenly. Niko swallowed, lost somewhere between deeply disturbed and horny out of his mind.

He glanced around before asking, “You really want that right, uh, here? In this place?”

“Why not? Why can’t I kill him and then fuck all over his luxurious bed?

Aren’t we here to enjoy ourselves, like you said?

” Elliott said, standing. Niko couldn’t help but notice the faintest wobble as he did.

“Come on, lover.” He held out a hand to Niko and Niko took it, letting him lead him deeper into the house, toward the master bedroom.

Just as Niko had glimpsed before, it was huge. The bedroom was bigger than his entire Kaapra-19 megacity apartment had been. It had another wall of windows and glass doors that looked out toward the sea, a sizable balcony built off of them.

Against the room’s far wall, flanked by two small marbled tables, was a king-sized bed full of frilly pillows and luxury comforters. One of the pillows had the audacity to say Stay a While in silvered embroidery with little seashell patterns.

A large, four-doored closet was covered in mirrors which reflected Niko as he was pushed back onto the bed by Elliott.

He watched a surreal vision of himself as Elliott climbed atop him, one leg wrapped around either side of him, blond hair hanging in his face, expression a little lax from the rapidly consumed alcohol.

Niko reached up to rub his hand along Elliott’s thigh and the Niko in the mirror did the same.

“I want to fuck you,” Elliott growled. “I want to fuck you until you don’t know anything but me.

Until you can’t think of anything but me.

Until you can feel me days from now. ” He threw Niko’s plea back at him from the last time he’d let Elliott top him and had lost himself. It stole Niko’s breath away.

Elliott was ravenous, only of a single mind. He began unsnapping and prying the suit free, piece by piece. But something wasn’t sitting right with Niko, and as Elliott leaned down to kiss greedily at him, he found himself turning his head away—both from the reflection and from Elliott himself.

Elliott paused immediately, going stiff. “Niko? What’s wrong?”