"I just don't appreciate being tinkered with, that's all."The route through Downtown down to Portside was infamous throughout Atlas. In its heyday, it had been a crowning achievement of infrastructure - a straight shot from the heart of a fledgling city down to the coastline of Mantle, a working artery of trade and prosperity that helped to build Atlas from the dirt into the most advanced kingdom on the planet. Now it was the road less traveled. The ride was bumpy even within the confines of Heinrich's plush domestic sports car, and there were long strips where only the LEDs on the dashboard and the occasional twinkle of headlights flashed by like a firefly. It was perfect drag racing territory - a test of skill and a promise of speed.
Jericho Piper had been driving this road since he was five years old, when he and his twin would sit on each other's shoulders to see through the windshield. It was so comfortable to him that even a paragon of law and order such as he felt comfortable pushing speeds of...very high speeds, suffice it to say...on their drive down to the cruise ship
Sleipnir. His passenger, however, seemed to prefer nannying him to death over surrendering to the Zen of triple digit speeds on a long-dead road.
One gloved hand tightened on the steering wheel.
"Yes, well. You do have the right to complain a little more loudly, you know," Heinrich griped. He was staring at Jericho's arm in resentment.
"You are a man of high standing in my court. If I had my way they would have never grafted that damned thing to your hand in the--""I don't want to talk about this again, Heinrich. If I believed there were any use in whining like a little kid, I'd be doing it." Jericho's right arm reached out and pushed Heinrich into the shotgun door, a rare moment of physical contact.
"I shouldn't even have brought it up. I'm feeling alright by now. It's mostly just...an ache.""An ache?"Jericho was quiet for a second before removing his hand from his team leader's shoulder. Two fingers locked around the volume knob on the car's sound system and turned it to the right.
"You know, there are seventeen trained masseuses on board Sleipnir," Heinrich suggested after a second's pause to listen to music.
"If you're aching, I have half a mind to send one to you by proxy.""You won't know where I stay.""You underestimate a King's knowledge of his Kingsguard, dear Jericho. I know you better than you know yourself. You'll find a nice little nest in the cargo hold out of people's luggage, and damn the strain it puts on your poor, supple back. Because I'm Jericho Piper, and I'm scared that if I ever enjoy a warm bed or human contact for once in my life, I might forget to put on my frowny face--""I never forget my frowny face. As you love to remind me.""Yes, well, it's going to leave wrinkles one day.""It will not." Jer put his elbow to the wheel and gently touched his face, stroking back long, dark hair from his eyes. Heinrich's own eyes, blue and twinkling, grew wide as saucers.
"Oho! Is that a hint of vanity from the Young Devil of Atlas?""Don't call me that," Jericho grumbled.
"No one calls me that.""It was in the school newspaper and everything. Maybe if you didn't want a moniker, you shouldn't try so hard to dominate in all the gauntlets. Or at least cut off the devil horns in your hair.""Horns don't point down, idiot." Nonetheless, Jericho's posture had straightened up, and he turned his head away from Heinrich to stare at the not-too-distant lights of Portside across the overpass. He was always touchy about the hair.
"You're an elite member of the school's ranks - a knight, even. You were chosen for an indefinite solo operation within the belly of the beast. You get to spend as much time as you want on a cruise ship, getting class credits, with no one you know around to irritate you," Heinrich Gault pestered.
"And you're still finding reasons to pout.""M'not pouting." In the darkness, it was hard to see Jericho's face, which was usually set in the same default expression anyway. But he sounded pouty.
"You're being churlish, my dear boy.""M'not churlish.""You are. You're being churlish about three weeks off.""It is not three weeks off. It's an important mission and a threat to Atlesian diplomacy. I'm not going to be sunbathing and hitting sambuca with Mistralian girls.""What a specific denial, brother," Heinrich chortled.
"Only you make an extra three weeks away from class sound like water torture.""I like being water tortured," grumbled Jericho Piper.
"It's rhythmical. Gives me time to think."Heinrich Gault opened his mouth to respond to that, but closed it after a second, and his eyebrows bobbed. No doubt he knew better than to follow that line of conversation any further.
"I told you we'd keep up with the workload for you.""That's not what I'm concerned about. It's the team. They're..." There was a moment of tense silence in the car. Jericho's hands were both clutching the steering wheel tight as an old woman's before his next outburst:
"Did you know Speer drew a frog with my hair on it in the front cover of my history book?"Loud, honeyed laughter began to rock the car violently.
"Did he really? Oh that is pricele--"The car's sudden brake pump put a sudden stop to the rich Atlesian's mirth, replacing it with quiet breaths for air as he checked to ensure his precious whip hadn't been involved in an accident. Neither Huntsman was wearing a seatbelt, but Jericho had time to brace himself for a break in the momentum, and looked to Heinrich with a stoic face and a coquettish glint in the eye that wouldn't look out of place in any other member of HJNS. The dock
Sleipnir was moored at was still three or four blocks away, but this was as close as Jericho dared get inside Heinrich's gauche gold coupe. His left hand made for the door before Heinrich stopped him.
"Sure you don't want me to walk you to your bike?""I'm not Babylon, Rich. I don't need the chivalry shtick."Heinrich Gault gauged that and then tilted his head, reaching over and ruffling Jericho's hair despite his grouchy protests (
"ow stop you're gonna mess it all up OW STOP you're making it glowwwww") with a crooked grin.
"Very well. Fare thee well, Jericho! Live, laugh, and learn to love while on your sojourn, and we shall meet again on the morrow!"Jericho rolled his eyes.
"Are those my orders?""Yes!" Heinrich Gault beamed.
...
Jericho's chin met his clavicle in thought for a long second before a faint, gentle smile finally graced the face of the Young Devil.
"Acknowledged. Take care of yourself, brother. I'll be back in no time - with flawless results and no crazy stories. As per usual."Jericho stepped out of the driver's seat and began to walk down the street, slowly fading from Heinrich's view as the black-clad Huntsman ebbed into the midnight hour. Rich got the faintest glimpse of Jer's back, lit up by the hot-red taillight of a custom motorbike, before it peeled away from the rendezvous point and towards the cruise ship.
...
Ahh, who am I kidding.Heinrich Gault slipped into the driver's seat with a rueful grin - and, this time, he grabbed his seatbelt.
He's not gonna have any fun. 
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