All Much had to do was talk himself out of it... and really, how hard could that be? Not hard at all, because cavorting with a Sin was an absolutely terrible idea.
Planning surveillance with Hecate had been good for all of half an hour, and then he'd gone round the Fox and deliberately 'tested' one of Art's traps and for another half an hour he and Art scrabbled around the floor picking up 489 of the 500 marbles that had marbled down the stairs. But even as he was cleaning he couldn't stop thinking about her, about the Belinda she'd invented and how wet and fucking tight and -
He'd looked up and seen a flash of Marian's red hair and decided a better idea would be to go for a walk far away from the Fox, and he'd grabbed a bottle of bourbon from behind the bar as he went, just to shut his brain up as it offered him memories of the sounds she made, memories that had him half hard just from thinking.
And not just memories, but imaginings of all the things he could do to her tonight. She was offering herself, there for the taking. I want you she'd purred in his ear, naked body hot against his, and he'd wanted her too. He still wanted her, too.
What had his intention been, when he'd grabbed the bottle? To dull all his thoughts so they wouldn't pull so hard at him? It wasn't working. Surely he'd eventually hit a point where the wanting would stop? Without another course of action, Much took another swig.
Aha - he knew. He would get out his phone and read her posts again, remind himself of her connection with Lucifer, that would talk him out of it. But the last messages she'd sent him said I'll see you and god oh god he wanted to see her. To draw a low moan of pleasure out of her perfect mouth - Much crushed his palm up against his forehead, eyes squeezed shut, breathing shallowly through his nose.
He searched for her address, just to see it.
Just to know where she was. Like that was surveillance too.
Fuck, the building she lived in was disgustingly expensive. Like Peitho and Hermes' place. Much felt a genuine rush of anger, and grabbed on tight to it. How dare she live there, up in that massive symbol of wealth. Much took an angry swig, setting his jaw.
He was going to go and tell her. This wasn't going to happen, because she lived in that apartment while there were people starving in the city below. How dare she. Much was going to go and tell her, to her face. He was... just going to sort his hair out a bit first, in a public bathroom on the way. Just going to rinse his mouth out from water from the tap first, just... just so he didn't look a mess. To make his point better.
In his imagination, he hammered her door down, and when she opened it he hit her with the words he'd been practising How dare you. But when he got to her apartment, the door was hanging open.
He hadn't planned for that. It threw the whole plan up into the air and cracked messily down around him.
He shouldn't be allowed to plan things, on his own. While drinking. In hindsight, leaving the Fox had been a terrible idea.
But Belinda stood there by the window, her long legs bare, and on the other hand... maybe leaving the Fox had been the best idea ever. If he'd told one of the others, they would have stopped him, and a very insistent part of Much did not want to be stopped. He stood in the doorway as she turned around, sensing his arrival, and Much let out a long slow breath through his nostrils. A breath that spoke of careful control. A breath that absolutely lied.