They watched the members of Mithras Kiss battle holiday nonbelief and villainous Oak King minions. They both sang along to the hysterically bad musical numbers. Word-perfect.
“I actually like fruitcake,” Justin observed eventually, halfway answering that unasked question. “I know it’s a demon stereotypical whatever. I do, though.”
“Guess what you’re getting for Midwinter.”
“Quiet, they’re fighting the spider-ghouls with the power of electric guitars, I love this part…”
“You started it!” When they somehow shifted position simultaneously, his arm ended up at the back. More or less over Justin’s shoulders. The night hummed. Crackled. Charged with electricity like those guitars. Could Justin not feel it?
Half-human eyes were intent on animated heroes. Not glancing away. Not looking up.
K
