Tyler wasn’t sure how he made it into the chamber to relieve himself and back to the party disk, because everything was a blur after that. He might not have even walked straight. His head pounded all the way, teeth worrying his lips if Kovan would reclaim the cost of the outfit from his winnings.

He had to know. And he had to know soon before his brain bursts into zillions of sand.

Said person found him as soon as they returned to the party, with Hector’s right-hand man leading the way, looking at him with a crossed look.

“I’m glad you found your way to the privy.” His tone however, was kept even and measured.

He probably couldn’t chide Tyler for not staying in the room as he was told, since his owner was just right behind him and it would be dastardedly rude to do so.

Tyler nodded stiffly, guessing the man might have checked his Link-plate and saw them taking the route there.

“I have my fellow …” he trailed off, realizing he had yet to get the name of the other – “Torch, to thank for.”

“Clement,” the other introduced himself, seemingly reading his thoughts, “I just happened to find him along the corridor, in need of relief.”

Kovan came up behind Hector’s assistance and gave a firm nod of thanks.

“My thanks, for showing him the way,” he flashed Tyler a smile with the corners quirked, “Luckily he stumbled into you. Any other Torch would not have been so accommodating.”

“You’re most welcome. It is what little gratitude I can offer in return for your support these last few years. I see this year you’ve decided to enter a Torch of your own.”

“Indeed, I’m ashamed to admit the thrill of the sport caught me. And I see you are running again this season. You can be certain you will still have my wagers.”

“You are too kind,” Clement bowed, “Your generosity is wasted on me. You might save yourself the expense, since you have Tyler now.”

“I have enough coffers for two,” Kovan dismissed readily.

“Then I thank you for your continued support.”

Kovan smiled like a generous saint, perfectly poised and courteous towards a man far beneath his station. Tyler found himself buying little of that, stuck on Owner’s earlier admission and pissing inwardly over it.

How callous and selfish! Kovan was able to call it a ‘thrill’ only because he himself was not the one running for his life. If the sands of tide could only turn and they switch places, Owner and the rest of the Echelon might not take this so frivolously, treating them as nothing but fodder for their entertainment.

Cruel beasts, Tyler seethed inwardly, patience wearing thin. He could hardly stand to remain in this place full of them. But it was not his call when to leave the party. It was his owner’s. And the fact that he couldn’t decide such simple matters, irritated him more.

Fenwicke appeared at that unfortunate moment, his furry, lion features seemingly leering at him, then casting a scathing glare at Clement. It forced Tyler to turn his heated gaze elsewhere, focusing on an invisible spot somewhere and burning holes into the space itself. Sparks looked like they appeared at the point he focused his glare, or it could just be the visual illusion caused by the vein throbbing heavily beneath his eyelids.

If Fenwicke caught his slight, he didn’t know, because Kovan barely exchanged two words and excused himself. As his Torch, Tyler dutifully followed, of course. To his relief, he found them heading towards the small Silica platform that was the way down to the ground where they parked their ride.

“We’re leaving?”

The disk was still packed, and from the vivacious chatter and laughs behind them, it didn’t look like anyone would retire soon.

“Of course. You don’t think I can lug around such a glum face, do you? Fenwicke is not the only one who thinks it is his right to lecture me about the ‘behavior’ of my bondsman.”

There were signs of irritation in Kovan’s eyes, bright against the night sky that rushed to embrace them, bright glittering lights from the party wistfully tracing the edges of his taller frame, bidding them a slow goodbye whilst they slowly descended.

But it was more directed at the thought of another pride pissing contest, rather than at Tyler himself for his ehem, rather unbecoming behavior – for a bondsman that is.

Tyler marveled how far he could push the limits of Kovan’s patience. He was sure the other owners, like Fenwicke for instance, would not extend him the same pleasantry and courteousness. It showed, reeking from their equally vicious Torches who were likely so staved from warmth, they have become frost-bitten like icy kings.

An apology ghosted on the tip of Tyler’s tongue, but Kovan beat him to it.

“I’m terribly sorry, maybe I should have warned you first…Given you some preparation, before thrusting you into the den.”

His words hit him the way their platform reached the ground, shaking a bit roughly with a heavy thud, causing Tyler to be momentarily unstable on his feet.

“Why are you apologizing?” Tyler was more than stunned. He was stupefied.

Here he was, readily prepared to explain his awful behavior at the beginning and towards the end. An apology was the last thing he expected from Kovan.

“Well, for various things, I suppose. Like Fenwicke. And the other Torches.”

So he noticed. Kovan was aware of the animosity and felt the harsh judgment upon him for trying to speak his mind. He noticed, and he cared about how affected Tyler felt.

Tyler barely felt the ground as they stepped off the platform and closed the distance to the jet-sedan. His legs became oddly lighter than air, chest skittering like he had taken a light jog, body warmed, skin almost scalding, against the night air that suddenly fell in temperature against his rising heat.

So many questions he wanted to ask. Like how Kovan and Fenwicke could be as different as night and day. Why Owner’s abode was as sparse and bare as Tyler’s own living quarters in his old life at the Lower quadrant. Or how he risked criticism and disregarded to turn up in the required dress code. Why he did something as contrary and trivial as making Tyler lunch. And why he even bothered to be concerned of Tyler’s thoughts.

Even though Tyler just barely started living with him, he saw enough to tell him that Kovan was innately different from the typical Upper-class folk. He might not even be a man who was born and raised amongst the Echelon, if he took Fenwicke’s insinuations as proof.

And he sensed whatever he gleamed so far, was only just the tip of the iceberg, of a man who defied the norms of class Tyler was accustomed to.