Sanguine (Kreuzberg Dragonshifters Book 2)

Sanguine Part 1

"I said yeah, provisionally, but that I'd have to ask you. You're the big boss man around here," Flake said, eyes rolling in sudden sarcastic disdain behind his glasses. "She even left a stack of menus and business cards behind to hand ou to our customers, just on the off-chance that you actually agreed."

"Oh?" Paul asked, in interest, as he dug a burger out of the sack with one hand and reached for one of the mentioned menus with the other. "Nice, is it?"

"Sounds all right," Flake said, with a shrug. "I suppose. For a place where people gather. You know, socially."

By Flake's seemingly dismissive description, Paul assumed that the place was actually top-class; the less enthusiastic that Flake appeared, the more interested he actually was. He was like a wonky barometer that seemingly only Paul, and Flake's partner Till, could correctly decipher. Paul flicked through the four page menu for himself, impressed by the glossy paper and the professional layout; even the name sounded intriguing - Sanguine. It brought up images of lazy evenings, filled with companionable talk and heady, home-cooked food and dizzying drink, right before the blood-hungry vampires came. Paul huffed at his own blood-related folly, and turned his thoughts again to the menu. Paul thought that it looked as though the place had some decent food, with an equally impressive array of alcohol at affordable prices. That Charlottenberg wasn't too far away from Alexanderplatz wasn't lost on him, and he wondered, silently, whether it would be a good idea to drop in one night, with Richard. Flake, seemingly, had had the same idea.

"You should take that boyfriend of yours in there, Paulchen," he said, with a smile, before he popped a chip into his mouth and chewed slowly. "Have one of these date things everybody's going on about."

"I prefer the term - 'life-partner' - thanks, Flake, and you're talking out of your arse again. You go on dates, don't you? That's what Till's for, isn't it?" Paul asked, with an amused huff from around his burger. "And eat your burger before it gets cold. You know you complain when your food gets greasy and slimy."

"Fuck you," Flake said, after a brief pause spent in digging out the burger in question and another large and greasy handful of chips. "And don't change the subject."

"I'm not changing the subject. We're still talking about food, aren't we?" Paul pointed out, from around a stuffed mouthful of bread and beef.

"Maybe so, but we're not talking about this gastro-pub, are we?" Flake said. "Seriously, take your life-partner with you."

The way that he said the words 'life-partner' indicated that he'd implied quotation marks, complete with waggling fingers, despite the fact that his actual fingers were still wrapped firmly about his burger and chips. Paul smiled, mouth too filled with food to pass comment immediately.

"How is Richard, anyway?" Flake asked, when Paul didn't immediately answer after finally clearing his mouth of food. "Still all right, are you?"

"Of course we are. Never better," Paul replied, in genuine confusion, as he glanced up sharply at Flake. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"No reason," Flake said, with a shrug and smile barely hidden by his burger bun. "Only I haven't heard you talking about him in about an hour, so I thought something had gone wrong."

"Only because I haven't bloody been here, you shit-head," Paul laughed. "And I do not talk about him that much."

"Like hell you don't," Flake grumbled, but by the soft smile he gave Paul, Paul could tell that the other man truly didn't mind, no matter what he said.

That Flake worried, and cared, about him was obvious, and now that Richard had entered Paul's life, Flake worried still more, that they'd break up, that Richard would break Paul's heart, that Richard would die a horrible flame-fuelled death. Paul never understood quite where Flake got such depressive thoughts from, yet he knew the other man well enough by now, to realise that that was just a natural part of his character.