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“You know, I saw Pariston go into Cheadle’s office the other day. She came out a few minutes later, but I never saw him leave.”
Cluck rolled her eyes. “Piyon, you’re being ridiculous,” she said after downing a mouthful of virgin margarita from her red solo cup. “Cheadle? Cheadle Yorkshire? Cheadle ‘I hate you Pariston’ Yorkshire? Come on.”
“Quit being a jerk,” Piyon huffed. “They say the opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference. Cheadle’s always got a bug up her butt about what Pariston’s up to. That doesn’t sound like indifference to me.”
“Come on, there’s no way.” Cluck looked over at the woman in question, who stood near Mizaistom with a bottle of ginger beer in her hand. It looked like she’d hardly taken a sip, too busy talking to remember she had it. Despite the fact that Mizaistom had specifically said this party was supposed to “improve morale” and let the Zodiacs forget about work for a moment, the two of them sure did look like they were in the middle of a serious discussion.
“I don’t think she’d be able to face the rest of us again if she and Pariston hooked up. She’s not exactly hard to read.”
Piyon relented, offering a noncommittal shrug instead of an argument. “Hmm…what about Saccho, then? He seems more like the romantic type, though.”
“He’s married.”
“So what? Pariston probably likes that.”
"Piyon."
“Alright, fine. Not Saccho either.”
Piyon had been about to elbow Cluck and ask if it might be Kanzai, mostly just to get her riled up, when suddenly the door they’d been loitering near burst open, startling them both.
“Whoops. Didn’t mean to do that,” Ging said, sauntering in with his hands shoved in his pockets. Cluck’s face went red and she slammed her drink down on a nearby table.
“Hey, asshole!” she squawked. “At least say you’re sorry! I almost had a heart attack!”
“My bad,” he said casually, without even stopping. He knew that wasn’t what she had asked for, but it was all she would get. He made a beeline for Cheadle and Mizaistom, leaving Cluck fuming behind him.
While she grumbled a string of curses at his retreating back, Piyon watched him thoughtfully.
“Maybe it’s Ging,” she said.
That stopped Cluck in her tracks, and she barked out a laugh. “Absolutely not. No.”
“No?” Piyon echoed, pouting a little. “Are you crazy? There’s no way they haven’t hooked up before! You’ve seen them interact with each other.”
“Yeah, and that’s exactly why I know they haven’t. Think about it.” She nodded over to Ging, who appeared to be paying absolutely no attention to what Mizaistom and Cheadle were discussing. Instead, he and Pariston were just…staring at each other from across the room. Pariston sat back in his chair and crossed his legs, the corner of his lips lifting in a subtle, sinister smile. Piyon shuddered.
“There wouldn’t be nearly this much tension between them if they’d already done it,” Cluck continued. “I’m sure Pariston would love to, but it hasn’t happened yet.”
“Maybe they think not doing it is the best part,” Piyon said, wrinkling her nose. “Freaks.”
“Exactly.” Cluck sighed and took another sip of her drink. She watched as Ging said a few words to Cheadle and then retreated to his own corner, leaving her to be reabsorbed into her previous conversation.
(Cluck frowned a little when he pulled out a clearly-not-Mizaistom-approved flask and took a swig before hiding it away again, but for the sake of her own mental health, she ignored it.)
“What about Mizai?” Piyon said, thoughtfully resting her chin in her hand.
“You’re still on this? And you’re going with Mizai? Are you insane?”
“Hm, yeah, I guess you’re right,” Piyon said. “Too uptight. Gel, maybe?”
“Maybe. If she was going to use it as an excuse to poison him.”
“Well, he looks pretty alive to me.”
“Not Gel, then.”
Cluck and Piyon amused themselves with their speculations until Cheadle decided the party was over and told everyone they could go home (Ging was out the door before she even finished her sentence).
Agreeing that he looked more smug than usual but having already eliminated each potential suspect, Cluck and Piyon wondered if maybe Pariston was seeing someone outside the Zodiacs, instead. It wasn’t as juicy that way, though.
On their way out the door, Piyon glanced back at the chair Pariston had been sitting in. It was vacant. She hadn’t seen him leave, but she didn’t think much of it. The guy disappeared and reappeared as he pleased. He’d probably gotten bored and gone off to cause trouble somewhere else in the building.
–----
Mizaistom watched the other Zodiacs disperse, tossing out the few cups they’d left behind. He wished Cheadle goodnight, then went back to his office to grab his belongings so he could head home.
He should have known he’d find a certain blond someone sitting in his desk chair like he owned it.
“Pariston,” he said sternly. “I thought I told you, not today.”
“Oh yes, you did,” Pariston replied, getting up from the chair. He took a step toward Mizaistom, and then another, slowly but surely backing him up against the wall. “But you’ve been ignoring me all evening. Isn’t that a little too cruel, even for me?”
Mizaistom was silent, stoic, but Pariston saw his gaze flit away, just for a moment. Bingo.
“Just a few minutes,” he coaxed.
“That’s what you said last time.”
“But I mean it this time.” Neither of them believed that.
Mizaistom went quiet again, meeting Pariston’s dark, swirling gaze. His shoulders slumped a bit, and he opened his mouth to give in, but Pariston pounced before he could get a word out. God, he was in for a long fucking night.
Beans backed away from Mizaistom’s office door, gripping the stack of papers he had been about to hand over. Without a word, he turned around and left, like he hadn’t even been by.
He could deliver them in the morning.