<strong>“Trip makes you feed him grapes? Seems like a waste of talent if you ask me. You, I think, would do well with our attaché group. FlynT works with a host of rare and ancient book dealers. Ostensibly cataloguing or purchasing rare finds but mostly we explore arcana. Spell books of known magic users. Witches and warlock paraphernalia. Sorcerers and wizards."</strong>Flynn sipped his martini.<br/><strong><br/>"We’ve got two on staff. One nightmare, ball-busting bitch and one old fart. Actual live wizards are so damn expensive but really it’s the only way to make sure the building remains standing half the time.” </strong><br/><br/>Magic seemed great when one had it but he'd seen more than one building exploded in the research of it. Flynn grimaced internally. He wasn’t sure why it was so easy to spill company secrets to someone who worked for his enemy. Milo was kind of easy to talk to … possibly part of his charm or the magical aura that surrounded him. Still his own protections would have alarmed had there been anything malignant cast on him. Still it was nothing outside of the usual company memos. Trying different methods to mechanize magic was a tried and true method used to innovate. They’d made more than a few billion dollars on the way to his interstellar vessels in this fashion. Meta physics on its good days was as endlessly fascinating as physics. Almost.<br/><br/><strong>“I’ll keep asking. No one as interesting as you should work for Trip Wellfleet. His nasty bro-germs are going to infect you.” </strong><br/>Flynn tugged playfully at Milo’s collar. Exposing more of the wildly-patterned shirts.<br/><br/><strong>“If you stop wearing this glorious nonsense, I’ll take it as a cry for help.”</strong><br/><br/>Flynn licked his bottom lip, letting his thumb brush against Milo’s nape.<br/><br/><strong>“I wanted to ask… I’m working on an art installation with a friend. Kinbaku-bi. We need subjects and I thought you’d be perfect.  It pays about 10k for two night’s work. Interested?”</strong><br/>