Who: Ecstasy and Mac What: E can make everything better. Can't he? Where: Transcendence, and Ecstasy's apartment above the club When: Backdated to Monday night Warnings: Drug use, language, TBA
Ecstasy was concerned.
Of course he was, seeing Mac's recent online posts and feeling --or rather not feeling, which was what bothered him-- that he wasn't using ecstasy as much. He thought that the boy coming into town would be a good opportunity to reconnect, and that some time with Ecstasy would surely help him out of whatever funk he was in. (E always did think very highly of himself, and why not? He was Ecstasy, for pity's sake.) But meeting Mac at the airport and seeing just how run-down he really was gave the god an uncomfortable feeling that things were much, much worse than had been let on. There was no time to sit down and ask what was really the matter, though, so E settled for a hug and promise that they would meet up back at his place when the business was all taken care of.
In the meantime, he went home and busied himself working with Eve. The girl was a quick learner once she stopped looking terrified every time he so much as looked at her. Today, they were working on his extensive network of contacts: the suppliers overseas; the suppliers stateside; the warehouses; the distributors; the few dealers that did enough business and had stayed with it long enough for him to become familiar with them. If she was going to be his assistant, she needed to know about his real "business" and how it worked. He trusted her enough, and why wouldn't he? He owned her. They were sitting in a secluded corner booth going over the last month's numbers when Ecstasy looked up and saw Mac finally walking through the door.
He stood up, leaving Eve with the spreadsheets and ledgers before her. "Okay, babe. When you're done looking these over, bring them upstairs and lock them up. I'll be busy the rest of the night, so be a good girl!" As if he had to worry about that.
Ecstasy didn't say anything to Mac quite yet, just nodded towards the door at the end of a corridor and led him upstairs to the apartment that occupied the entire fourth floor. "I didn't want to say anything in front of the staff," he explained. Finally he could get up close and personal, peering up in concern. "What can I do?" There had to be something. He was a god and this was his mortal, and there was no way he couldn't make it better.