Christmas spirit is in short supply.
"Brian," Troy said from the doorway. "Brian," he repeated.
"Yes, Troy," the Brit acknowledge him.
"I wanted to talk about some stuff." Troy let himself in, then sat opposite Brian at his sparkly desk in his fierce office. Some title he had now... Troy couldn't remember. Adviser? Royal physician? God of moping? Anyway. "I broke up with Will. We're friends. That's it. That's all we're ever going to be. I keep mistaking what we have for... y'know. Swordfights." Unfortunately, there had been a major lack of such things since coming to Asgard, and even before that. So. "He's been in a good place, but we're pretty much platonic. Even," gulp, "familial." Shudder. "So..."