A Difference of Opinion
At the Owner’s Table, Wyll and Anders watched them go with a certain amount of amused satisfaction. As the two disappeared behind the bar they slapped hands in a high-five. “Oh, I think she is going to enjoy Ray,” Wyll said with quiet amusement. They were trying not to involve Igmund and Raerek, who as usual were watching the passing parade and had not yet retired, in their conversation. Anders gave his friend a questioning look. “Back before Kat came here,” Wyll explained, “Ray and I sometimes, uh, did bed-warmer duty for the same customers. He’s pretty skilled in that department, from what I heard.”
Anders looked at Wyll with an expression of annoyance. He’d never had quite the right attitude for a Suite guy. It had been all fun and games, for Wyll and many of the other men who’d been hired to serve as resident hosts/greeters/bed-warmers/sellswords. And not just for the younger among them – Ray was his own age. For Anders, sex was pointless unless love was involved, or at least the possibility of it. In a way, he had fallen in love with Kat at first sight – though it had probably taken him as much as 48 hours to realize it.
“What about love, Wyll?” he asked, sounding a little wounded. Wyll looked perplexed. “Sorine and Ray? Sure, I suppose it could happen. But aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself?” Anders lightened up a little, though he knew Kat would feel the same way. She was in love, and she wanted the whole world to share the joy.
“Ray’s a Breton, just like me and Kat. And just like Sorine, too. Did you see the way they were talking? They never took their eyes off each other. I’m just saying, it could happen. And maybe it will happen. So there.” He crossed his arms and mugged a scowl, looking up at Wyll from under glowering brows. Wyll snorted.
“Okay, Mister Romantic. True Love has just blossomed before our eyes and we’ll be heading off to another wedding in Fort Dawnguard this time next year. Right?”
Anders gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Right!”
Waxing puckish, Wyll continued, “Speaking of True Love, my dear, are you about ready to go to bed?” He gave Anders a coquettish glance that was utterly incongruous on his powerfully masculine features. Anders felt like slugging him and laughing at the same time. “I’ll be along in a while, ‘my dear.’ You go ahead and turn in, if you like.”
Wyll was looking forward to a busy day tomorrow, and the bath (along with several ales during the evening and half a bottle of wine with dinner) had relaxed him to the point where, barring the presence of his beloved, going to sleep seemed like a good idea. He stood, clapping his friend and soon-to-be co-husband on the shoulder. “See you in bed,” he said.