A joke. That was what Theseus was to most people, wasn’t he? The funny one, the guy could tease but you didn’t have to take seriously. The one night only, the fun time. He didn’t know if it was the bistro or Oliver going monogamous, but he felt damn tired of being the joke. He pulled away from the door, taking a few steps away from her before putting an arm out, as if displaying himself.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard of me, but I can guess. I have a lot of sex, with a lot of different people, and I don’t form attachments to most of them. I make a lot of jokes, and I barely take anything seriously. Just… I’m not a joke. Okay? I’m not. I don’t want to be on your damn team, but I don’t want to be told that I can’t before you’ve even seen me on a broom. Or before I even said a damn word about it. I was offering to provide food. Not rain on your preconceived victories.”
Theseus rubbed his jaw, then dropped his hand in a small defeat. “I’m not a joke, Celia. I can’t be your friend if I’m just a joke to you. My ego can’t take it.” He hated being so exposed to her, so openly upset and put out. Usually no one saw the inner workings of his mind or emotions, because people didn’t want to. They wanted to see him use one of his two talents, or both, and then to disappear into he ether. That was easy, wasn’t it? To just fade away until someone called upon him again? The issue was that Theseus had to live with himself in the meanwhile.