Milo is losing control and they are painfully aware of it. They want to slam their head against the cool marble of the bar and call it quits. But there is no going back once you are in the thick of an assignment. There is only one thing they can do: they need to divert Thomas’ attention and they need to do it fast before Thomas becomes too attached to the conversation. It will be problematic if Thomas needs more convincing than a few cocktails to forget Milo ever existed. 

They attempt to shift the conversation back to Thomas, banking on the painful knowledge that most millionaires love nothing more than to talk about themselves. “Well, since I’ve been living under a rock, you’ve got to tell me about yourself,” they respond. Then they notice with distaste that there is no alcohol left in their glass when they lift it to their lips.

“That depends on what you want to know. Are you interested in the highlights of my career? Then you better pick up a magazine. Or, are you interested in the juicy tidbits of my personal life that those magazines will never get to write about?” The devious glint in his eyes annoys Milo to no end. Is Thomas playing with them?

Because they can’t resist the thrill of a challenge, they answer coyly: “Perhaps a little bit of both? Anything that you think will help me understand you better.” 

Thomas sucks in a sharp breath, then lets the air whistle through his teeth. “Alright, let’s start at the beginning then. I grew up in Lennox, LA. My father’s an engineer at the LA Air Force, mom’s a hairdresser, but it’s my grandma who I got all the talent from. When it was her turn to watch over me after school, she used to give me damaged socks and shirts to repair. Strange chore for a 10-year-old, I know, but I loved it! Breathing new life into discarded clothes made me feel useful.” 

He crosses his arms and proudly straightens his posture. “Later, I learned she used to be a seamstress working under a well-known tailor in our area. She has taught me everything I know about sewing. Well- the most important parts of it anyway… Eventually, I outgrew her skills, so she sent me to work and study under her former boss’ son, Oscar.” 

Milo puts their empty glass back on the bar. They let the top of their index finger glide over the rim. Thomas can tell them nothing new, of course, but they are pleasantly surprised by how Thomas’ deep, charismatic voice blows life into the story. 

“Now for the juicy part.” Thomas leans forward and lowers his voice. His theatrics create the illusion that he is about to reveal a grand secret. “Under Oscar’s supervision, I quickly grew rapport with the townspeople who fell in love with my original work. At the same time, I was falling for Oscar… And he for me.” 

Milo raises their eyebrows. Despite their familiarity with the story, their intrigue is peeked. Sure, they know all about Thomas’ relationship with Oscar and the matchmaker responsible for that disaster, but to hear the story from the target’s perspective is a rare (and cherished) thing. 

Thomas, who perhaps misinterprets their intrigue for envy, clarifies: “You have to understand, I was very young. Oscar and I were both prone to fits of rage and jealousy. It was a passionate affair that was never meant to last. At times, I believed us to be magnets; either too appalled to share the same space or so drawn to each other I would have happily shared a body with his spirit.

“All the while, I was building my empire,” he continues. “I would have gladly shared the success of Colombo LA with him -let there be no mistake, it was my success- had he not tried to destroy all I care about.

“Well, the joke’s on him.” He laughs bitterly. “When I left him, I took his entire clientele with me.” 

Milo remains silent after Thomas’ story concludes. They allow themselves to drift in the depth of human emotion on display in the eyes of the gorgeous man who is sitting across from them. There is nothing more beautiful. 

They can feel the heat of Thomas’ passion, the calm ocean of grief that rages against the shore when he is reminded of the betrayal that filled that ocean in the first place. However, there is something else lurking beneath Thomas’ words. It is unmistakably there in the tremble of his fingers, in the hunger that has been consuming his body from the moment he stepped through the door…

He desperately longs to meet a kindred spirit. Someone to pour his passion into- or out of. Is it not the same thing? He needs someone who burns as bright as he does, an endless cup of optimism. A muse. He needs someone like Jolyn. 

At long last, the barman places the Manhattan in front of Thomas. “My apologies for the wait, sir.” 

Thomas takes a quick sip, then takes a look at Milo’s empty cup and beckons the good man to stay. “Hm, you’ve got an alright taste,” he hums. “They pour a mean Boulevardier here, I think you’d like that one. Can I buy you a drink?” 

Milo hesitates. They know full well that this will be a step too far. Matchmakers are not supposed to get drunk in human form; it is seen as excessive. Furthermore, it could compromise the assignment if it causes one to lose control of their chosen form. Then again, perhaps they can spin the offer to their advantage. 

They look over their shoulder and try to locate Jolyn who is wrestling her way through the crowd to get to the all-gender bathrooms. She is stopped every few paces by friends, acquaintances and admirers, and Milo correctly guesses it may take her a while to get to the other side of the room. A small idea starts to form at the back of their head and they make a quick calculation. 

“Sure.” They finally give in with a conceding smile. “I would like another drink.” 

Thomas beams from ear to ear -the poor fool- and orders a Boulevardier for Milo. Guilt tugs at their heartstrings but they remind themselves they are doing this for Thomas. It takes significantly less time for the drink to arrive than Thomas’ Manhattan did. 

Thomas’ disappointment at not getting to spend more time chatting to Milo while they wait is palpable. Milo would have felt bad for him if not for the knowledge that a meeting with Jolyn will soon turn his evening around. It is time to set things in motion. 

“Try it!” Thomas nudges the drink towards Milo when he senses their hesitation. He winks encouragingly. “It won’t bite but it WILL have a bite, I promise.” 

Milo takes the glass in their hand, swirling the liquid around. It almost sloshes over the edge. Their nose picks up a hint of orange then itches at the spicy aroma. They know what they have to do but the plan lays heavy on their stomach. They take a sip.

“And, any good?” Thomas asks them. He takes another sip of his drink. 

“Yeah, it’s good! Quite similar to a Manhattan.” Milo smiles, feigning enthusiasm. In all honesty, it had taken them a Herculean effort to take even a small sip of the drink. Their mind was so preoccupied with their approaching plan that after they swallowed the drink, they could not tell what it tastes like. 

“I know, right? I knew you’d like it.” Thomas confidently answers, now nonchalantly leaning back on his barstool. 

“Would you like to try it as well?” Milo proposes nervously. They feel their anxiety rise and it takes a great deal to hide their distress from Thomas. Luckily, Thomas seems to have blinders on and is oblivious to what Milo’s body is trying to signal. 

“Of course! I’ve tried it here before, but a sip won’t hurt.” Thomas’ soothing voice helps Milo come to their senses. Everything will be alright. 

However, the thought that Thomas will soon fall head over heels for Jolyn remains slightly upsetting as they push the glass towards Thomas with shaking hands. They really like the bloke and would have liked to spend more time with him. But, as they remind themselves, everything they are doing is ultimately for Thomas’ good. 

At the last second, before Thomas can grab the drink, Milo ‘accidentally’ tips the glass over. It chinks against the marble counter, then dramatically falls to the floor, splintering into a thousand pieces. At least half of the Boulevardier sloshes against Thomas’ perfect suit, staining his cream-coloured blouse with an amber hue. 

Milo jumps up immediately, heels crushing the glass shards. “Shit, shit, shit…” They pretend to panic, shaping their previous anxiety over the success of their plan into something much worse. Their voice goes up an octave. “God, I’m so sorry!” They say as they grasp at their curls. 

It takes a moment for Thomas to realise what just happened, but then he jumps up from his chair. He brushes off the drops sticking to his saturated suit. His eyes are piercing daggers. “Fuck, this is ruined, what am I to do?!” His voice thunders through the bar, drawing more attention than Milo is comfortable with. 

Milo rushes to him. They quickly assess the damage and try to hush him before he makes a scene. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, this is all my fault.” Their tone is appropriately panicked. They avoid Thomas’ gaze out of fear he will realise that the spill was not an accident.  

Milo reaches out to unbutton Thomas’ suit jacket to keep it safe from further damage. They helpfully offer: “I bet they have paper towels and soap in the bathroom. Maybe you can go there to remove the worst of the stains?” They hope -they pray- that this might give Thomas a chance to run into Jolyn. 

Thomas slaps Milo’s hand away. It snaps them out of their panic. When they finally look up into Thomas’ blazing eyes, they realise they have made a grave miscalculation. 

“The fuck are you on about, Milo?!” Thomas shouts. Milo recoils. 

“I’m sorry, sir. I had- I had no idea. I-” 

“Are you kidding me?! Do you have any idea how expensive this suit is?! It needs immediate professional care to keep it from staining further!” His demeanour is terrifying and Milo takes another step back.

They feel as though the floor is sinking beneath them as their plan breaks down. When they see Jolyn leave the bathroom from the corner of their eye, their heart sinks and tears well up in their eyes. It is over. Not only have they ruined Thomas’ night, but they completely blew the opportunity to set him up with the love of his life. It is best to admit defeat and start over tomorrow. What a disastrous example for their Alluno they are…

“I’m sorry for ruining your night, Thomas,” they sniff apprehensively. They wrap their arms around themselves in the hope it may bring them comfort. “I’ll just- I’ll just leave. Thank you for the drink.” 

The anger in Thomas’ posture quiets as Milo turns to leave and the flames in his eyes slowly extinguish. “Hey, Milo, please wait. Look at me.” He captures Milo’s chin in his hand before they can go, tilting their head so they can see that his gaze is as empathetic as it has been all evening. 

“Listen, the only thing you may have ruined is my suit and that’s replaceable. What isn’t replaceable is the fun I’ve had talking to you tonight. It was an accident. I shouldn’t have fallen out against you and I will forever be sorry if that is the impression of me you leave with.”

Milo remains quiet, interested in what Thomas has to say. Their anxiety slowly fades and is replaced with intrigue. What is it that separates Thomas from their previous targets? What makes him tick? They lean their head against Thomas’ hand as they ponder these questions. Then they rub the tears from their eyes. Why the hell on earth would Thomas specifically be interested in THEM? 

“I know a way you can make it up to me if you want to.” Thomas continues soothingly as he gently caresses Milo’s cheek with his thumb. “You did not get to finish your drink so in my book… I still owe you one. Let’s go back to my room. We can continue our chat there while my suit is dry-cleaned. What do you say?” 

His expression is open and hopeful but Milo withdraws from his touch, brows drawn in doubt. Thomas could be inviting them back to his hotel room with ulterior motives but it may give Milo the opportunity to question him about his life. Surely it will be a positive thing if they are able to figure out more about Thomas? It will certainly make it easier to bring him and Jolyn together. 

Then again, maybe they are simply making up excuses to claim more of Thomas’ time. It does not matter, their heart has already made the choice for them. There is only one answer they can give. 

“Yeah, I would like that,” they whisper.