Chapter 638: Probably

Grey’s chat was being completely useless as usual. In fact, they were being more useless than usual right now, practically chomping at their keyboards like a pack of rabid horny dogs.

[GreyDominion: WHY IS IT STILL OFF.]

[RedButton: Because they’re talking.]

[EpicPelvis: Nobody needs minutes of censorship to TALK.]

[SpellSeeker: You people realize there are legitimate reasons the Genesis System might maintain privacy beyond sex, right?]

[FinchTheDiddler: virgin detected]

The argument had already divided into camps by the time the stream suddenly flickered back to life, revealing Grey crouched beside the bed as he picked up the bomber jacket he’d flung aside earlier. There wasn’t anything particularly incriminating about the scene on its own, but his shoulders were slumped, his expression was far too thoughtful for someone who normally looked pleased with himself, and Team Amara immediately smelled blood.

[RedButton: LOOK AT HIS FACE. HE’S DEVASTATED. AMARA STOCKS JUST WENT UP.]

[GreyDominion: Or he just had the greatest minutes of his life and is reflecting on it.]

[EpicPelvis: Minutes? That’s generous.]

A few usernames disappeared from the chat and it didn’t take much to guess at where they had probably gone. Real investigative journalism was happening for the unemployed.

The usernames started to pop back into the room after a few seconds had passed. Another username appeared several seconds later, apparently migrating over from Amunet’s personal feed now that hers had returned as well.

At that moment, the chat was oddly silent as though they were waiting for a verdict to be handed down.

[GraveOdds: Came from Amunet’s stream. She wiped a tear away outside the room.]

That silenced the chat for all of three seconds before everybody interpreted the exact same information in completely different ways.

[RedButton: SEE? SOMETHING WENT WRONG.]

[GreyDominion: Or emotions happened. Adults have those.]

[FinchTheDiddler: what if Grey was just a quickshot]

[GreyDominion: Delete your account.]

[SpellSeeker: That would technically explain both parties looking dissatisfied.]

Then another message came flying through quickly enough to cut off the next round of arguments.

[EpicPelvis: HEY, HEY, LOOK AT THAT!]

A screenshot attachment appeared beneath the message, zoomed tightly onto the side of Grey’s neck where a dark reddish-purple mark sat just above his collar. It was slightly blurred from the stream quality, but between the shape of the bruising and the tiny broken patch of skin at its center, the chat didn’t need much imagination.

[EpicPelvis: HA! THAT SHUT YOU GUYS UP, DIDN’T IT? THEY DEFINITELY SMASHED!]

[RedButton: ...]

[GraveOdds: ...]

[FinchTheDiddler: That still means he’s a quick shot.]

[GreyDominion: YOU DON’T KNOW THAT. MY KING COULD HAVE STAMINA FOR DAYS.]

[SpellSeeker: Didn’t he pass out the last time a woman kissed him?]

[GreyDominion: ...]

**

Grey walked through the Palace hallway with his hands linked behind his head, staring at the ceiling while mumbling to himself about how life fucking sucked.

He rounded the next corner without paying much attention and nearly walked straight into Brad and Mensah, both of whom had positioned themselves suspiciously close to the wall as though they had absolutely not been waiting for him. The instant Grey appeared, their faces lit up with the kind of interest that made him consider turning around.

Mensah got there first.

"So?" he asked, stepping forward with sparkling eyes. "How did she taste?"

Grey’s face flattened while Brad leaned closer and looked him up and down, apparently conducting some sort of deeply scientific assessment. After several seconds, Brad grimaced and shook his head.

"That was a bit quick, don’t you think? I know we’re kinda pent up in here, but you’ve gotta do better than that."

Mensah nodded in immediate understanding. "Don’t blame him too much. When I was a young lad, I was a quick shot too. He probably doesn’t have much experience."

Brad stroked his chin sagely. "True. We shouldn’t judge."

Black lines practically appeared across Grey’s scrunched brows as he stared between them, genuinely unsure which one he wanted to punch first.

"Can you even get it up with all the steroids you’ve been shooting into your ass?" Grey asked.

"Hey!" Brad straightened defensively. "I can be as hard as a rock whenever I need to be."

"Taking a honey pack and sticking a thumb up your ass doesn’t count."

Brad’s mouth dropped open as he began sputtering through an objection, but Mensah suddenly slid around Grey’s side and leaned close enough to inspect his neck. His eyes widened almost immediately, then his grin became so obnoxious that Grey knew he had noticed something before Mensah even raised a finger.

"Aha! Look at you being coy."

Mensah pointed directly toward the bite mark on Grey’s neck, which under the bright Palace lighting looked far less like a wound and far more like a bruised hickey. Brad followed the finger, stared for several seconds, then slowly turned toward Grey with genuine disbelief.

"You dog." His eyebrows climbed. "You really did hit. I was just trolling."

Grey’s mood somehow became worse.

Neither of these idiots knew what had actually happened, and explaining that he had spent several minutes with an almost naked Amunet grinding against him only to stop before sex wasn’t going to improve the situation. If anything, it would probably make whatever bullshit conversation they were having ten times worse.

He waved them away with both hands and continued down the corridor without answering.

Brad and Mensah watched him leave, their smiles gradually disappearing as Grey’s shoulders slumped again. They stood side by side in silence until Mensah finally sighed with genuine pity.

"I guess he really is a quick shot. What a shame."

Brad nodded slowly. "Poor bastard."

"How do we cheer him up?"

That required several seconds of serious consideration before Mensah’s expression brightened. "Are there any brothels around here?"

Brad blinked. "Probably? I haven’t checked."

Mensah’s grin stretched from ear to ear. "How about we go test a few out, then bring our pal here to the best one?"

Brad considered the proposal with all the solemnity of a man being asked to approve military strategy, then gave a slow, sagely nod.

"Yes. For his sake, that’s the least we can do."