Rost and Reagan
It was certainly Christmas in the tropics. She thought about Caius in his dark clothes. Were funerals held on Christmas day? The thought made her want to start giggling, but she managed to tamper down on the sound as it formed in her throat. The mention of Rost's lovers prompted Reagan to look around eagerly. "No, not yet. I mean, wait, yes I did! Or at least... uh, Greer? I was refilling my cup and she came into the kitchen and read my palm." Normally Reagan would have been put off by anyone just taking her hand the way Greer had, but it had amused Reagan greatly, so she had to chalk it up to the alcohol she had consumed tonight. "Apparently I have a lot of heaviness weighing on my mind. Or my heart? I can't remember." Reagan exhaled and smiled again. "They're very good looking people."
Reagan’s enthusiasm made Rost’s heart happy, and he put a hand on his chest when she said Greer had read her palm. “She did the same to me, that is how I fell in love with her,” he said, beaming. Maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but the connection and attraction had been instant when Greer had helped herself to his hand at Juniper, in front of the coffee. “They are, they are wonderful all around.” Both of his loves were gorgeous and charming, and Rost was so happy to see them mingling and making new friends. The rest of what Reagan said didn’t escape him though, and Rost’s expression sobered a bit. “Do you agree you are heavy? Can I assist?” He had to wonder if it had anything to do with the issues at the cemetery, but Rost didn’t want to bring that up immediately.
She was feeling far too happy right now to feel heavy, or sad, or anything that had been plaguing her when she and Caius arrived. Maybe Zania had released some magic in the air to affect everyone at the party. Maybe Reagan was just overly drunk. She didn't really know, or even care. She felt too good to care about much of anything. So she continued to smile at Rost while shaking her head. "I don't feel anything right now but... uh, pleasant? Happy? Maybe drunk, but then if I was really that drunk would I know I was drunk?" Her dark brows drew together for a thoughtful moment. "It doesn't matter. There's nothing you can do. I made my bed, and now I have to lie in it, so to speak. Your woman though, is she... something? I'm sure you've talked about her before, but I can't remember right now. She seems very intuitive."
Rost’s brows lifted a bit through Reagan’s ramble, but his smile came back somewhat. “I always know I am drunk.” She seemed happy, at least, and even if that was a temporary state, it was better than despair. He knew very well that you had to take advantage of the times you felt good when you could. He didn’t much like the sound of bed-lying, but Reagan was likely right that there was nothing he could do. “I am here to listen if you ever need that,” he told her, reaching out to gently squeeze her forearm. Then Rost smiled again. “I believe she is special somehow, but nothing we officially know of. Devlin, however ...” Rost glanced around for his male lover and spotted him animatedly talking to the big man with the long hair. “He is psychic. He sees and speaks with the dead, and he can see things through objects he touches. Hence the gloves.”
Reagan followed Rost's gaze until she spotted Devlin with Knox. Burly Knox. "He can speak to the dead? That's interesting. I bet he's never lonely in this town." Her gaze ticked to the gloves on Devlin's hands and then brought her cup back up to her lips. She wondered if Caius knew they were surrounded by much more than witches tonight. "Are you doing okay in the cemetery?" Reagan asked, returning her attention to Rost. "Is it normal again yet?" She hadn't been by in a while, and it wouldn't have done her any good to do it now anyway. If Baron, or any of that magic lingered, she wouldn't have been able to tell.