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"Only you," Emaris said, frustrated in his attempts to physically express his temper by the necessity to handle the sound equipment with care, "would fall in love with someone purely because he utterly skewered your latest play in his podcast."
His sister Shandei had recently found employment with the enemy. The betrayal still stung.
Savonn viewing the matter as a source of amusement rather than annoyance hadn't helped.
"Not purely," said Savonn, trying on a cat's mask. "Not that. Give me a little more credit, please. He's also, I hope you will agree, rather ridiculously good-looking."
"He is not," Emaris said, who had gone from worshipping the air Savonn breathed to bonding over late-night drinks with Hiraen Safin, Savonn's oldest and (according to some) only friend.
Mostly they bonded over Savonn's ridiculousness. It had proven a near-inexhaustible topic of conversation.
"I think he is," said Savonn. "Your opinion on the matter, while valid, holds little interest to me." His lips formed a smile, the rest of his face hidden behind the whiskered mask. "Of course, none of this means that I'll go the least bit easy on him when he goes and puts on his own play."
"Ha!" Emaris said, though his expression brightened a bit. Savonn had it in him to be vicious and utterly without mercy, when he judged it amusing to be so.
Sometimes, 'amusement' seemed to be Savonn's sole reason for doing anything at all.
Which was, Emaris tried to reassure himself, why all this talk about ridiculously good-looking critics was nothing more than that: talk. Nothing would come of it - at least, nothing so dull or boring as some grand romance. Savonn didn't do romance - unless it was on stage, in which case it always ended badly, with blood and tears and the rending of garments other than the t-shirts of some overly enthusiastic fan.
"Very eloquently put, darling," said Savonn. He didn't bother to try and sound like he meant it as a compliment. "On that note, I'm off. Don't wait up, please. If all goes well, I may be late. Or early, depending."
"Depending on what?" Emaris said, putting away the last of the equipment. "Wait, what's with the mask? You're not - "
"I," said Savonn, with great satisfaction, "will be auditioning."
Emaris uttered a word that would have shocked his sister - though mostly at the discovery he knew it at all rather than at the word itself. Shandei was considered the rebel of the family, the daredevil and risk-taker and pursuer of ridiculously good-looking podcasters who spoke ungenerously of Savonn's writings.
Savonn, not being related to Emaris by blood, only laughed. "One hopes, but I won't be counting on it. It'll be our first date, after all, and I do like to take things slow."
"He'll never take you," Emaris said. "He'll recognize you right away."
"Perhaps." Savonn's mouth was grinning now. "But perhaps not. Perhaps we might play a game, he and I. Perhaps I'll be instrumental in making his play an unprecedented success."
Emaris thought that did rather sound like Savonn. "Fine. Go. Who needs you, anyway?"
"Kiss Hiraen good night for me, gazelle," Savonn said, gone at last after a quick wave of his hand.
"I'll kiss him good night for myself, thanks," Emaris muttered, mentally already composing a text to Shandei to either warn her or lure her away from the studio, to give Savonn a fighting chance, at least; he knew it'd have to be one or the other, but which of the two it would be, he hadn't yet decided.