DESCENT

VIII - Stalking 101

HARRISON SILVERS:

"Harrison, we're leaving!" Alastor suddenly hissed as he rudely dragged Harry away from the lovely flower nymph he was smooching for the past five minutes out of nowhere.

Harry groaned out loud.

Seriously, can't they leave a guy alone to have some fun?!

"Don't call me that and you just got here!" Harry complained but allowed Alastor to drag him with the back of his shirt away from the pretty blossom who looked just as miffed as he felt. Harry didn't bother to fight or try to free himself from the grip though.

...Such a waste of effort.

Alastor grunted but decided not to grace that with a comment as they reached Sean who stared at the two of them like they were the ones embarrassing him.

The nerve of this guy–

"So... judging by your bitchy mood, I take it did not go well with miss doom shroom?" Harry finally asked, still in Alastor's grasp.

"Don't call her that," was the snappy reply.

"Aw, come on, man!" Harry pouted at the telling attitude, crossing his arms petulantly, "Just because you guys couldn't get laid right now means me too as well. What is this, a pity party? I was getting to the fun part!"

"What happened?" Sean asked Alastor, opting ignoring Harry's dilemma.

Ouch.

"It did not end up how I wanted but we... we reached an understanding. At least," Alastor answered, releasing Harry.

"So... in other words, you didn't get laid?" Alastor clenched his jaw at the question, looking positively murderous in that one moment; Harry took a step back and almost regretted he had even bothered to ask.

...Almost.

Definitely didn't get laid.

"...huh, no wonder you look as grumpy as Sean right now," Harry commented. This time, both of friends turned to glare at him—he immediately raised his hands up in surrender, "...whoa tough crowd, you guys seriously have no chill."

"It's really none of our business but... now what, Al?" Sean asked, turning to look at their alpha with a concerned gaze, "You okay?"

"Peachy... anyway, how much does our pack know of W–" Alastor suddenly paused, glancing back to the direction which he just came from, a strange look passing over his face for a brief moment before it settled into a look of stubborn determination, one that often get him, his twin and Harry in trouble, "...I mean, what do we know about Proserpina?"

"Honestly? Not much," Sean answered with a shrug, "Just what I told you. She's a relatively new minor goddess, after all."

"Sean... please, you do not call my mate a 'minor' goddess," Alastor grumbled, one of his eye twitching in irritation.

"Oh, wow..." Harry whistled, completely amazed, floored, astounded—ah whatever's the word, "...now you even sound as whipped as the old man."

Sean pointedly decided to ignore the jab, what a buzz kill, "So, what are you going to do, Al? Need any help?"

Alastor glanced around them for a moment, as if to make sure no one's listening (none, Harry almost pouted, because everyone's too busy making out and having fun), obviously hesitant and a bit embarrassed but nodded.

"..Just promise me that the elders won't find out," Alastor muttered, "...I don't want her to get swamped by them like they did with me."

Sean nodded, "Of course,"