This week, it's Marcus and Samil. Who will never be the little old couple holding hands in the park, because Samil has been dead for 4000 years and Marcus has been assigned by the Council of Eternity to be his body servant and keep him grounded in the modern age.
The next noontime, over shirred eggs, Samil looked at him. "Emperors aren't usually outed until they are dead," he said.
Marcus just nodded. "Very good, sir."
Samil rolled his eyes and slammed his coffee cup into the table. "Have you no opinions on anything, man?"
Marcus kept his face neutral. "You pay me to cook and kill and keep you comfortable. You do not pay me to have opinions."
Samil caught his eyes with the dark ones that seemed to be the very definition of infinity, cold, black and endless. "Then at least tell me this. What, exactly do you think of me?"
Marcus saw Samil wanted the truth. He swallowed hard against all his training and spoke his personal opinions. "You are a handsome and complicated man. Dangerous, certainly, and a perfectionist as well. Keeping you pleased is a challenge even for me. You are ruthless when it suits you and surprisingly generous. I find you quite attractive, but since you are not interested, I will not pester."
Samil ran one slow finger down Marcus' face, leaving a trail of fire behind it. "Don't mistake caution for lack of interest."