All the Ruis Want More

(Present Day—The Vintage Bathroom)

Jasper perched on the edge of the clawfoot tub, one leg crossed over the other, his fingers trailing absently in the water. The rubber duck bobbed violently as he stirred, spinning in frantic circles before capsizing.

"And then," he said, his voice smooth as the steam curling off the bath, "you two became lovers." The words hung in the humid air, thick with implication.

Ru stood rigid by the marble sink, his grip tightening until his knuckles blanched. His reflection wavered in the fogged mirror, distorted and fractured—much like the memories Jasper was dredging up.

"You always greeted us so... thoroughly at the Venue," Jasper continued, watching the duck disappear beneath the water with a wet squeak. "The teas. The lingering touches made an indelible impression. That look Heise gave you—" He laughed, low and mocking. "I was jealous, Ru. Me. I am the man who collects hearts like pocket change."