Without suspicion.

I told Diana everything without a lick of suspicion. She had offered to make me a cocktail I’d like, so we went into her living room with Red following us. There, as she was looking for bottles of liquor in her cupboard, I asked her,

“So… Remember when you said you knew someone who claimed to know magic? That person was Mr. Allen, right?”

Diana looked at me with wide eyes, a hanging jaw and a bottle of creme de menthe on hand.

“So that’s what took you two so long? He told you, too?”

I nodded. “He figured out I have powers, too. He wants something from me.”

I recounted the whole conversation, paying attention to Diana’s reaction. She looked genuinely surprised, further proving to me that she had nothing to do with it. As I went on, her expression began to shift to understanding.

“I… see. Hmm. Some things make more sense, then,” she said.

“What things?” I asked her.

“The hotel, for example. It is a big, fancy place… but not a big enough business for him to personally oversee, at least comparatively speaking. It always looked to me like a personal project for himself and his girlfriends. Maybe he was looking to build a place to spend time with them. Or maybe he was building a love hotel to…” she swallowed, “attract someone like… you.”

She grimaced and looked down at the floor. I chuckled.

“Still don’t believe it? That we have magical abilities?”

Diana shook her head with a heavy, tired sigh. “I do. I just don’t WANT to believe it. It’s… too weird. It complicates everything.”

I nodded. “It does. I can’t blame you for thinking that. I thought the same until not long ago.” I sighed. “But you never would’ve looked my way if not for it. Same goes for the others. The fact that I can be with you all at the same time is also thanks to those powers, so… I can’t bring myself to hate them.”

“...” Diana remained quiet, but she had a thoughtful look on her face. She carried the liquor bottles to the kitchen and got back to work on the cocktail. I watched her as I scratched under Red’s neck.

She took out a small hourglass-shaped device from one of the drawers. It was made of stainless steel, longer on one side than the other. She filled it to the brim twice with the green creme de menthe to perfectly measure and poured it into the shaker that already had ice in it. She did the same with the transparent creme de cocoa and then some heavy cream. Diana closed the shaker and, well, shook it with smooth, clearly practiced movements. I don’t think the whole process took her longer than 30 seconds. She strained the now creamy, mint-green liquid into two cocktail glasses and grated nutmeg over them.

“A grasshopper,” she said, offering me a glass. “If you don’t like it, don’t **** yourself.”

I tried it with an open mind and fucking loved it. Sweet, minty and chocolatey at the same time but with a hint of that liquor kick that warned me to drink it slowly.

“This… is dangerous,” I said, laughing. “I haven’t even started on this one and I think I might want another.”

“Not until you can hold your liquor better,” she told me, bopping my nose. “I’m not sending you home drunk.”

We went to the living room with drinks in hand, clicked our glasses in a silent toast and we both took another sip. Diana moved closer to me and leaned her head on my shoulder. Red barked jealously at us.

“You’ll have to get used to it,” Diana told her dog who growled and walked away, indignant.

For a while, there was silence between us. Not an uncomfortable, awkward silence, though. Diana was thinking about something, carefully pondering her words. I was waiting patiently.

“I can’t claim that I’d still would’ve looked your way if you didn’t have… whatever it is you have. I wish I could, but I don’t know,” Diana said softly. “So if I look at it that way, then I suppose I’m thankful the magic drew my attention to you.”

I chuckled. “I appreciate the honesty.”

“I won’t pretend not to believe anymore, and I suppose I’ll need to have a chat with Mr. Allen about it, too.”

“He said he cast a protective spell on you. Have you ever felt something weird?”

Diana chortled. “You make me feel weirder than he ever has. I’m still not sure how to feel about the butterflies in my stomach.”

We smiled at each other and shared another tender, innocent kiss. Her lips felt chilly from the grasshopper.

“Still…” she continued. “I’ve worked with Mr. Allen for a while now, and… No, maybe I should stay quiet. I’m his employee. I shouldn’t be meddling in whatever business you have with him.”

I shook my head. “I want to hear it.”

She nodded. “He’s always kept his word, always treated me and other employees fairly, perhaps more than fairly. It does make you think like he has some ulterior motive, but he really just wants to share his good fortune with others. They call him a playboy philanthropist, and I don’t think that’s a wrong description.”

A man possessed by a Spirit of Greed… sharing his fortune? It was a contradiction, plain and simple. But I didn’t think it was wrong. Maybe his case was similar to mine?

“I desire your abilities and your cooperation more than anything right now, but I refuse to take it by ****,” was something he said to me.

I thought about my own position. If there was a woman I wanted but she didn’t want me back… would I take her by ****? No, I wouldn’t. I would never. My very being rejects the mere idea.

Frey said spirits took advantage of a moment’s weakness to possess people. In that case, it was possible that Mr. Allen wasn’t generally greedy, but found himself in a situation where he wished he could have… something, everything, and a spirit used that to possess him. A kind, generous man with powers fueled by hoarding riches sounded pretty stupid.

About as stupid as an awkward, socially anxious man with powers fueled by having sex.

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