The Stars Are Burning [PAUSED]

1. Spinning in the Dark

SLOTH DECIDED THAT he liked Fletcher. She wore her power like a second skin, and that same power was what made her so enticing to him. Not many mortals could exert this level of authority so flawlessly and effortlessly, and yet she could, only at the ripe age of eighteen.

She was Fletcher Cheung after all — she'd been in the spotlight and every single newspaper company's page six at least once, and everybody in Manhattan knew her surname. Strangely enough, unlike celebrities or other influencers on power trips 24/7, she had no desire to be liked. She had even refused to bend down to Sloth, a supernatural being with more power than all the mortals in the world combined.

Fletcher was a puzzle, and Sloth intended on solving her.

FOR THE FIRST time in ages, Fletcher was scared. She'd managed to keep a facade of indifference in front of Sloth, but once she closed the bathroom doors, she threw up in her mouth.

After being exposed to Sloth's powers, Fletcher believed that the attractive man in her room was the embodiment of Sloth. The problem was that she didn't know what he and the gods wanted from her and what they were capable of.

When anybody offers to do something, they obviously want something in return. But surely Fletcher has nothing to give that the gods didn't have — they were gods, after all. What could they possibly want from her?

She was too hungover to think. She let the cold water from the showerhead rain down onto her smooth skin, washing away her fatigue. Lathering her body in a rose-scented scrub, she made sure all the grime from the night before was gone before she exited the marble bathtub.

Drying herself, brushing her teeth and wrapping herself in a bath kimono, Fletcher strode out of the bathroom, not caring if the deity-god-sin was waiting for her outside.

She descended the stairs to the kitchen. Sloth sat on a bar stool on the kitchen island, munching on an omelette. He eyed Fletcher then returned to his food.

"Good morning," A rosy blush crept up Sloth's cheeks.

Fletcher had him enthralled, and both her and Sloth knew it. "Good morning," She echoed, taking special care to slide up the barstool as gracefully as she could manage.

Her housekeeper was busy frying up an omelette, used to her ward's antics.

"Hi, Maria," Fletcher greeted the cooking woman.

"Another one of your boy toys, little señorita?" The housekeeper replied in lieu of a greeting.

Fletcher snorted indignantly, but all three of them knew it was good-natured.

"Boy toy?" Sloth turned to Fletcher with a smirk on his face.

"I mean, I still don't know your name, so yeah, 'boy toy'." This time it was Fletcher who was smirking as she faced the Sin, her head propped up on an elbow.

"And you'll never find out." Sloth replied as Maria dropped off Fletcher's omelette on the kitchen island, alongside a steaming black coffee.

Fletcher took a sip of coffee, grimacing at the bitterness.

"Eat your breakfast, it'll make you feel better," Sloth murmured. All traces of boyishness were gone in his voice, replaced by gentleness. Fletcher was surprised momentarily but complied nonetheless.

"Finish up quickly, we've got work to do." Sloth said a few minutes later when Fletcher was already halfway through the omelette. His tone was still soft, but he had a determined look in his eyes that Fletcher couldn't ignore.

"I have a question, Sloth," Fletcher said between mouthfuls of food. "What do you do? Like, I know you're one of the Deadly Sins, but what are you in charge of doing?"