Bohren had never been as good as Rivek at this whole scaling-rooftops thing. The bird-mage perched on the curved red tiles, munching the remains of a bread loaf stuffed with dried pork and olives. He was already halfway through his share of their stolen quarry. Bohren finally got his leg over the balcony railing as Rivek crumbled some hard cheese into his mouth.

“I’m glad some things don’t change,” Bohren wheezed, catching his breath and he hauled himself across the roof. “You’re still one hell of a thief.”

“And I’m glad you’re still incredibly awkward. I couldn’t ask for a better distraction.”

Bohren felt his cheeks flush, and he hoped Rivek couldn’t see it in the moonlight. “This is yours.” He sat down next to his friend and took a flask from his pocket. “I don’t know how you drink this stuff.”

“Coffee is an acquired taste for refined palates.” Rivek handed Bohren what remained of the bread and unscrewed the cap of his drink. He sipped slowly, savoring each drop of thick, bitter, liquid. Bohren grasped the remainder of the roll between his knees as he dug into his pocket for a canteen of milk. He popped the cap off and began to enjoy his meal, alternating between the bread in one hand and the drink in the other.

Eating meant they didn’t actually have to talk. With so many years between them, Bohren wasn’t sure what he could say. Unfortunately, he was almost out of bread. He turned the canteen around in his fingers. He might never get another chance to tell him. Rivek had his own life, now, and it was on the other side of the continent behind a towering wall of military conflict. “I’ve always wanted to tell you something,” he muttered, looking at the drink in his hands. “I’m-.”

“That you like men?” Rivek laughed and continued sipping his drink. “I’ve known for years.”

Bohren fumbled with the canteen, almost dropping it into the empty alley below. “You have? You’re not - worried? Offended?”

“You don’t give me enough credit. I mean, are you offended I have acid-blood and I like turning into a bird to kill my own food?”

“Well, no.”

“Exactly: my out-of-the-ordinary habits give me no right to judge you. The way I see it - it’s personal preference, just liking something. You can’t explain why you like something. You just do. Take drinks for example. I certainly wouldn’t judge you for what you choose to drink. That would be very wrong of me. Do you judge me for drinking coffee?”

“A little.”

Rivek jabbed Bohren in the side. His elbows were damn bony. “Ow! Okay, not really.”

“You enjoy cow’s milk - of which I am not a fan. Upsets my stomach.”

“So what’re you saying?”

“That nothing changes. I like coffee, and you like milk. I like women. You like men.” Rivek reached across Bohren’s shoulder with a wink. In seconds, he was pouring what remained of the milk into his own beverage. ”And some people like a little milk in their coffee.”

---

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“Mizqevi fazi.” Mischief Managed. - 072/100 Themes.

Rivek explains it all: sexuality edition. Happy shipping, fangirls!

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Bohren Tabirian and Rivek Ailinar belong to Grace Fong,