“I’m glad you approve your Grace.” Heath spoke, with formality and sarcasm laced in the words. The male held respect for Jac, even more so knowing the love Ruri had for him and yet it was hard to be as formal as a King demanded and deserved. The dog deserved it, but didn’t demand it. It made Heath want to give him titles, but also made the hybrid feel foolish once he did. Instead the male would speak it with a casual and humor filled tone. The red hued collie sat before the bar, and Heath watched as he took the bottle from the wall. They would find no whiskey here, for its last resident had cleared the place of it. The clear bottle looked heavy in his paw, and Heath torn his eyes away and searched for a cup.
The half sized glass sat between the males, and Heath took the bottle to pour for the King. Moving the glass closer to the other Heath spoke, “No, not exactly.” The scent of the vodka touched his nose, and he found that he wanted a glass more then anything in creation. It was his drink of choice. Fire indeed. But once it hit the stomach it was the caress of a heated hand along his spine. It filled the mind with a haze, and ease that wished all thoughts away. The numbness of the lips, the heavy eye lids and the dulling of every nerve. And just the scent made him crave its touch. “I was looking for you. They say that you have been missing.” Gold eyes moved from the glass that he had been staring at and to the face of the male.