Max took a long, long ice bath.
He had sunk himself fully into the oversized tub, arms resting along the rim, breath slow and controlled while shards of ice floated around him. Steam curled upward where heat still bled off his skin, a faint shimr of magic refusing to fully settle.
Whatever Aphrodite had used wasn't just lust magic. It had been layered. Old. Refined. The kind designed to bypass instincts, resistances, and logic alike.
His body still felt warm.
That alone bothered him more than the injury from the angelic arrow earlier.
"Yeah… that's not supposed to happen," Max muttered to himself.
His resistances usually handled extres automatically. Fire, cold, ntal influence, emotional manipulation — all of it was filtered, dulled, controlled. Aphrodite's enchantnt had slid right through the gaps, clinging to his nerves like residue.
The ice helped. Slowly. Painfully.
Then his control slipped.
A sharp gasp escaped him as instinct took over and his ice aura surged outward in pure desperation. Frost exploded from his skin, racing across the tub, up the tiled walls, crawling over pipes and fixtures. The water flash-froze solid, trapping him knee-deep before he forcibly shut it down.
Cracks split the porcelain.
The bathroom was now partially an ice sculpture.
Max stared at the damage in silence.
"…Shit," he sighed. "Charlie is going to be pissed."
He carefully stepped out, shattering the ice around his legs, steam rising again as his body normalized. He wrapped a towel around his waist and ran a hand through damp hair.
"I'll fix it later," he added quietly. "This bounty hunt's gonna take a while anyway."
He dressed slowly, deliberately grounding himself with each motion. Shirt. Pants. Boots. Gloves. Tail flicking once behind him.
"If Aphrodite was that dangerous without being a combat type," he murmured, fastening his coat, "then Zeus is going to be a nightmare."
The thought lingered.
Raw power. Ego. Lightning-based witchcraft amplified by Hell itself. That wasn't sothing to rush into.
More importantly, he needed his head clear.
The last thing he wanted was to lose control around the girls.
He trusted himself — mostly — but after Lust, that trust had cracks.
Bee would probably think it was funny. Encouraging, even.
That thought alone made him exhale sharply.
"No," he muttered. "Not happening."
He stepped into the hallway of the hotel, the quiet hum of the building grounding him further. The place was calr than usual — fewer sinners, fewer screaming argunts, fewer disasters waiting to happen.
As he walked, he spotted Vaggie just exiting the gym area, towel slung over one shoulder, hair slightly damp. She looked like she'd just finished showering after a workout, posture relaxed for once.
Max slowed. "Hey, Vaggie. You doing alright?"
She jumped slightly.
"Oh — Max," she said, exhaling. "Yeah. I'm good. Just finished training."
She glanced down the hall. "Charlie's working on so new exercises with Angel if you're looking for her."
"Actually," Max replied, stopping in front of her, "I was looking for you."
Vaggie blinked. "…?"
He nodded. "I know the deal's always been that you and Charlie are kind of a package, and I respect that. But it doesn't hurt to have so one-on-one ti too."
Her eye widened slightly. A faint blush crept up her cheeks.
"O-oh," she said, clearing her throat. "Yeah… yeah, that does sound nice. It's been a while since we had that."
Max smiled, tail swaying lazily. "Thought so. I'll ssage Charlie and let her know to join us later when she's done."
He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text.
Vaggie hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. Let
change first. I'm definitely not in date clothes."
She disappeared into her room.
While she was gone, Max booked a reservation at one of the nicer places in Pride — Fallen Angel Café.
It wasn't overly luxurious, but it had class. Quiet atmosphere. Decent food. Minimal risk of running into the Vees.
Which was important, since he was fairly certain he was banned from all of their establishnts.
Vaggie erged a few minutes later wearing a sleek black dress that balanced elegance with comfort. Nothing overly flashy, but it suited her perfectly. Even her eyepatch had been swapped for one that matched.
Max paused mid-step.
"…Wow," he said honestly. "Black suits you almost as much as red. I didn't know you owned that many dresses."
She smiled shyly and took his hand. "You can thank Charlie for that. After the elevator incident, she dragged
shopping."
He chuckled. "Sounds about right."
"And," she added teasingly, "you're the kind of guy who'd say I looked amazing no matter what."
"You caught ," Max admitted. "All of you look amazing — no matter what you wear or how insane things get."
They walked together through Pride, passing neon signs and murmuring crowds, until they reached the café.
"Fallen Angel Café?" Vaggie said, smiling. "A little on the nose, don't you think?"
Max smirked. "I'm the only one who could actually bring a fallen angel here. And a dashing one at that."
She snorted softly as they sat down.
"I've wanted to try this place for a while," Vaggie said, glancing around. "The owners are… relatively nice. For sinners."
"Yeah," Max agreed. "They do a sort of purge schedule. Hold all the violent urges in until weekends."
She blinked. "That's horrifying."
"They have great specials though," he added. "As long as you're polite."
An imp waiter arrived, clipboard in hand.
"I'll take the Tri-Chocolate Murder Special," Max said, "and add a Gate to Heaven drink for a guest arriving soon."
Vaggie looked at the nu. "I'll try the Blood Haven Special."
The waiter nodded and left.
"They do have so… interesting nas," Vaggie said.
"Marketing," Max replied.
A few minutes later, the drinks arrived — rich chocolate coffee for Max, a cherry-strawberry cappuccino for Vaggie, and a vanilla-lemon cappuccino set aside for Charlie.
Vaggie lifted her cup. "Thank you, Max. For everything."
He t her gaze.
"You're the best thing that's happened to
and Charlie since we got together."
Max smiled softly. "You girls are the reason I'm still here."
Charlie arrived shortly after, laughing as she sat down. "Wow, I feel underdressed."
"No such thing," Max said. "Sit. Enjoy. Sweets are coming."
They talked. Laughed. Shared stories.
When the desserts arrived — perfectly matched cakes — they enjoyed every bite.
Max paid, left an excessive tip, and stood.
"Well," he said, packing leftovers, "why don't we go help Octavia on the way back?"
He kissed them both lightly.
For now, this was enough.
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