Sorrel felt guilty because he knew what his answer would be before Armin made his plea and he refused to allow it to change. Everything was simply moving too fast for him. The previous day, he was a simple clean-up contractor hoping for a alley hookup with a hottie. Today, the Mayor's son was promising him the world and he even had the Four Horsemen as backup to make sure he could keep it.
But--no matter how much their budding matebond urged him to trust Armin, Sorrel had learned a long time ago that he couldn't necessarily trust his feelings.
"I can't do this," he said. He slid off Armin's lap and set his glass of liquor on the table. He stared at the ground rather than face everyone's disappointed expressions. "I know all of you seem like you want to help me, but I've been taking care of myself for a long time. There's no need to make this into a major situation. Besides, Armin and I just met. It seems a little early to petition Fate. I'm not saying I'll never do it, but I've already been burned once and I'd like us to build an actual relationship before we talk about matebond ceremonies. Okay? Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm really overdue to check in at work. Armin--I'll see you later."
Hoping the ogre got the hint that he wanted some alone-time to think, Sorrel fled the Mayor's office at a quick walking pace. He felt a weird mix of relief and disappointment when he made it to his truck without Armin appearing to chase after him.
The drive to the Mage-Me-Tidy offices felt somewhat lonely without the horned ogre sitting next to him.
The Mage-Me-Tidy offices were located on the third floor of a six story building near Pixie Hollow. The area had once been known for its colorful flea markets and weekly festivals until someone thought it would be a good idea to upgrade the flea markets to shopping malls. Now it was a commercial district with an eclectic mix of residents. The neighboring building was a workshop for handmade kimonos while the other neighboring building was an artisan bakery. The mall itself was only a few blocks down the street.
The building's receptionist didn't bother looking up from her knitting as Sorrel headed to the elevators. Only the guard-cat, Draco, meowed in greeting to let Sorrel know he'd been noticed.
On the third floor, Sorrel barely made it out of the elevator when a three foot, bat-winged brat tried to tackle his stomach. The impact didn't knock him off his feet, but it did make him uncomfortable when he noticed Fickle was rubbing his face into Sorrel's belly.
"You're a freak," Sorrel said as he pried his co-worker off. "Go bother someone else, you shota wannabe."
"Aww," Fickle whined. "But you're so soft!"
"Fuck you, too," Sorrel grumbled. Seeing the kid was a little more insistent than usual, Sorrel called for some assistance. "Ardent! Come get your partner off me!"
Unlike Fickle, who was a shapeshifting empath, Ardent was a heavily-muscled stoic who rarely changed his shirt, much less his mood. His head popped out of his cubicle and he said one word in an even tone.
"Fickle."
It was enough to communicate his opinion on the situation. Fickle jumped back from Sorrel as if he'd been burned. "I was just saying hello," he said defensively. Then he skipped off in the direction of the breakroom like he hadn't tried to treat Sorrel as a teddy bear.
Ardent shook his head as if he were disappointed, then turned his gaze on Sorrel. "Forgive him," he demanded. "We dealt with a child poltergeist in an apartment building this morning. Fickle is still off-center from communicating with it. He should return to normal in an hour or two."
Sorrel grumbled under his breath, but he couldn't get mad. Fickle's expertise in emotionally-driven magic meant he would always struggle to find his center after working a job. And the fact he'd shape-shifted meant he must have channeled the culprit's spirit during the process of capturing it. That always made it harder for Fickle to remember his own identity.
"I don't know why they let this brat continue to work," Sorrel complained. "Even with you as his partner, this can't be healthy for him. What are the two of you going to do if he doesn't change back one day?"
Ardent gazed at Sorrel with a bland expression. "Being unable to pay for a roof over his head and groceries would also be unhealthy. Yes, there's a chance he'll lose himself if he keeps using his power, but there's also a chance he'll gain better control over it. Besides, he likes his job. He says he likes helping people."
As far as Ardent was concerned, it was the end of the conversation. He disappeared into his cubicle again.
"Sorrel!"
Sorrel had known the shout was coming. He glanced across the office at the door of his Boss' office and saw Mallow standing in the entryway. The grizzled man looked like he should be in a smithy forging swords rather than wearing a suit and organizing jobs for outcast mages.
"My office," Mallow barked. He disappeared inside and Sorrel took his sweet time following, simply to prove he wasn't scared of his Boss.
Even though Mallow had every reason to bite his head off after Sorrel disappeared without calling to confirm the completion of the vortex clean-up.
Mallow's office was plain and uncluttered, making it clear it was the equivalent of a conference room. Like Sorrel and many of the other employees, he kept everything he needed to do his job in his vehicle.
His Boss waited for him to sit, then crossed his arms over his chest and asked, "Do you want to explain to me what happened last night?"
Sorrel groaned. He hated when his Boss acted like a disappointed school Principal. But, slowly, the old man dragged the story out of him.