Went out for drinks. Frisk doesn’t drink, but I can feel the pleasant buzz through the bond like a secondhand high. Some guy at the bar kept staring at her tits. I felt the flicker of her discomfort, sharp and cold, before I even turned my head. Leaned over, loud enough for the whole fucking bar to hear, and asked if his eyes needed a map or if he just didn’t know what a ‘no’ looked like. The pacifist solution, my ass. Sometimes you need to be a bitch. Got us kicked out. Worth it. Walked home in the rain, her hand in mine, feeling her quiet gratitude warm my ribs like whiskey. The bond isn’t just for feeling each other cum. It’s for knowing when someone needs you to be their fucking sword.

• C

(You were loud.)

• F