He and his butler, soaking wet, shoved their way behind the bar, where Jaq found Saara’s special treat from the homeland. Jaq poured two fingers into one glass, then another.

“Desperate times?” Saara wondered curiously. Her eyes widened as the pair of them gulped down the fluid. Jaq coughed against the alcohol while Viktor held his chest, twitching a little as it slithered down his throat. He set his glass down and she poured them two more. “Fuck me, what happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jaq responded tersely.

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse,” Viktor agreed. “How much of this would it take to forget tonight?”

“At the rate you’re drinking?” Saara laughed. “Don’t worry about a thing, sugar.”

Jaq and Viktor took their second glass more slowly and Saara returned to tending the bar. The two of them looked at each other and clinked glasses.

“Sir Doctor, what are we doing?” she uttered, holding her glass to her diaphragm.

“Specifically or generally?” he gulped. He could feel the euphoric buzz seeping into his brain.

“Do you have a preference?” she shrugged, taking another sip.

Viktor nodded. “Specifically. I’d rather be right here, specifically. Generally…I have no idea. Owensby seems to think we are protecting the realm. This tastes better the second time.” He held up the glass to examine the liquid.

“Wait ‘til the third,” Jaq laughed. “It tastes like dessert.”

Saara cut in, “Would you mind being productive while you get drunk? The storm’s drawing everyone in here.”

Jaq gulped down the last of her glass and stepped forward, listening to drink orders. Turning around to select bottles, she faced Viktor’s already glassy eyes. “Um,” she smiled. “Could you take a step…” she grasped his upper arms and shifted him to his left.

She made the drinks and stowed the money. Then she turned around and faced Viktor again. “You’re doing that on purpose,” she chided mildly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, pouring something more mild but also not moving aside. His eyes met hers and he smirked, dangling the glass in front of her.

Her eyes widened and she accused, “When did you develop a personality?”

“Since a skeleton grabbed my foot and laughed about it,” he said, clinking his glass to hers. “I see dead people and they see me. I finally have an excuse to no longer give a damn.”

She laughed approvingly. As the glass met his lips and he tasted the liquid, she reached up and raked her fingers through his hair, returning it to its place out of his eyes. Viktor paused but she had already turned to the bar, mixing drinks and sipping her own when she had a spare hand.

Viktor, Jaq, and Saara talked and japed until he was not sure if they were pushing him to dance or he was going of his own volition. Jaq’s hand tightly held his as they shuffled through the crowd. Music and alcohol pulsed through his head. Saara was in front of him, handing him something else to drink, which he passed over to Jaq, who soberly put it elsewhere. Saara put her hands on his waist while they danced.

Someone bumped into them, dividing them as Saara’s attention diverted. Viktor instinctively sought Jaq. His eyes found her, not far from him, dancing with her back to him. He approached behind her, one hand finding her arm and the other her waist. He murmured over her shoulder, “Jacqueline.”

“You’re drunk,” she laughed. Her arm lifted, curling behind his neck, her fingers moving through his hair. He realized he liked the feeling of her hand tugging him down to her. Viktor moved against her, dancing until she twisted to face him, smiling. His hands felt the curves of her stomach and her arms rested over his shoulders until she removed herself from him. Jaq took a step away and kept dancing, just out of arms’ reach.

That would not do. Like strings attached to his organs, he felt a pull downward as if everything was falling. He closed the gap between them, sliding one arm behind her and the other up her nape, his fingers in her hair and…did not bring her mouth to his. He could not say what stopped him as he uttered, “I think I want to kiss you.”

He staggered when Jaq guffawed. “You’re my butler—” She frowned, replaying what she had just said, and then giggled at herself. “I’m your butler!”

She was smiling, laughing and dancing, and Viktor was in a haze. She took his hand and twirled herself, lost in her own cloud.

“I do. I want to kiss you.”

Jaq looked up. “What?”

“I want to kiss you!”

“I can’t hear you!” she apologized.

Viktor clasped her hand, pulling her out of the throng of music, people, and alcohol. Jaq’s hair was falling down as he drew her into the stairwell. He thrust his hands into it to cradle her head as he pulled her close. His lips found hers and he was shocked by the softness there. After a moment of calm, he kissed her again, experimentally and softly, learning her mouth.

He pulled away to take a deep breath. “I want to kiss you,” he repeated, his voice low. Viktor waited for her to respond, to catch her breath, something. Suddenly he was worried he had made a mistake, that he was the only one feeling whatever this was. “Jacqueline?”

She appeared far more sober than he felt, visibly gazing at him as she reached some decision. She stood on her toes, encompassing his neck with her arms and pulling his head down so she could kiss him. Viktor’s eyes closed, clutching her frame against his, feeling her back. The fabric of her waistcoat was too thick. His fingers searched for the buttons, but he wound up pulling the vest apart, buttons landing on the floor. His hands returned to her back, sliding up and feeling her strong form through her shirt. Something else hindered him, an undergarment of some kind beneath her shirt. She may have dressed like a man but she wore as many layers as a woman.

Viktor broke away, gasping. “I want to touch you.”

Jaq smirked, and pushed through his arm to dash back into the Sea Servant. He scrubbed a hand over his face as she retrieved their coats and ran up the stairs, flashing him that smirk. A smile of his own formed on his face and he chased her up the building and they stumbled outside, laughing.

It was still drizzling. No sooner was the door open to his house then he grabbed her against him, kissing her eagerly and kicking the door closed. Viktor had never bothered to put his coat on. He tossed it away, urging Jaq’s vest off. She hardly buttoned her shirt, and his back bowed. She arched up to meet him as his lips pushed the fabric away and he kissed her collarbone, her chest. His tongue tasted her skin.

Viktor took her hand, leading her upstairs. Stumbling into his room, his arms were around her, and he fell backwards over his bed with her atop him. She sucked his lower lip while she kissed him. Viktor reached between them, undoing his trousers. Jaq’s mouth moved to his chin, his throat, and his hands fell to his sides, riveted by what she was doing to him.

Blearily, he gazed up at her, and she paused to look down at him. Her hair was completely loose and thrown over to one side. His heartbeat was slowing down in his chest. He blinked, realizing she was climbing off of him. He vaguely saw his door close behind her before he fell asleep.