“It wasn’t an offer,” I grumble, just as I always have to say when I flip him off.
It’s Dice. I should expect this by now.
“Could you possibly stop PMSing sometime soon? You’ve been terrible company,” he states flatly.
Groaning, I glance at the trees, pausing when I see moss on the path ahead. Shit.
My gaze darts around, and I change direction, searching for the non-moss path again.
How did I lose it?
“I get your pissed off at Zee and Chaz—”
“Don’t,” I caution. “And I’m not pissed at Zee.”
“You are, though you’d still have his back if he needed you. Understandable really. They’re both a couple of cunt puckers, if you ask me.”
Oh, just perfect. Apparently I used a Dice insult against Slade. He’s probably seen this and is now mocking me.
Or maybe he’s not watching at all, and I’m stupid for sort of hoping he’s unable to watch me.
I’m going insane. Just great.
“What are those weird sounds of frustration you’re making? And why am I seeing so much moss? How’d we get off the right path?” Dice carries on.
“You’re centuries older than me. Why am I the one leading us through this forest?” I gripe, finally finding the non-mossy path again.
“Contrary to popular belief, just because you’re older, it doesn’t mean you’ve taken a stroll through all the haunted, spelled, and creepy fucking forests before. And this thing is just a few months older than you. And you’ve come three times with your mother or father. And you’re royal and I’m not, so it’s your obligation. The list goes on, really.”
I keep walking, trying to tune him out as he gripes a little more.
“We have to be careful, or we’ll end up in Polly’s lair. I’d rather not have that unfortunate reunion. Like ever. Especially when I’m wearing my sexy pants,” he prattles on.
I’m going to regret asking this…
“Why would you wear your sexy pants to a haunted forest to visit two clans of agitated land disputers?”
“Because…I’m sexy and I know it,” he says, singing the last part before jumping in front of me, bending over, and shaking his ass very…disturbingly. “Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle!”
Again, with the singing.
“I have no clue what song that even is,” I retort dryly.
He gives me a look of utter horror, turning his head while keeping his ass bent over in front of me. Very weird display.
I pass him as he straightens and shakes his head in disappointment. “I’ve failed you.”
“Who’s Polly?” I ask him.
“An ex acquaintance who got a little miffed when I left her for a black widow. It was a dangerous phase for me. After the widow tried to kill me, however, I broke up with her too and moved on.”
“I seriously doubt that’s all of the story,” I mutter under my breath. “If Polly’s lair is out here, then why do you not know this forest? And who calls it a lair?”
“She calls it a lair, and I’ve never stepped foot in these woods. She moved here long after I shattered her heart and left her picking up the pieces. She begged me back; I, of course, didn’t have time for clingers. I was in my prime.” He preens.
“You’re immortal,” I say again. “You’re frozen in your prime.”
He scoffs. “Physically, yes. My appeal is unparalleled.” More preening. “But I meant it was my era. The girls loved a good bad boy, and there were far more posers for the ‘good’ team back then. It was before ‘bad’ got in style.” He sighs wistfully. “The good ol’ days.”