Locke:
How dare she…
Where are you going?
Eris:
This place she loves. Something about cushy velvet booths and the best kind of poor decisions.
Locke:
There’s no name in that reply…
Shall I just follow you there?
Goosebumps crawl across my arms as I actively ignore the tightening in my core. It’s such a fucked up thing to get excited over… The hunt. Even more than finally putting a face to usernames.
Eris:
You talk as if I’ll know who you are if I see you.
What if I leave with someone?
Locke:
You will. And I’ll watch you go…
Have your fun now, Eris.
Because once I get you, you’re mine.
I stare at the message, pulse jumping in my throat, before finally typing the question that plays on repeat in my mind.
Eris:
Who are you?
Locke:
Not Whisper, though he’ll give you the same answer.
Eris:
Yeah. I figured that out myself.
But thank you for the confirmation.
Locke:
How about I give you more than my name?
Eris:
I’d rather you keep it simple… But if you must continue to overcomplicate matters, then by all means, Romeo… Please proceed.
Locke:
That’s not my name. I would never put you in such a situation where tragedy is your only way out.
