Max noticed the way Carovo stared at the honey and suddenly felt sad. The man may not look like it or act much like it, but he was horribly addicted to that stuff. He walked over and sat on the bed next to him, kissing him and stroking his hair. He pushed Carovo back, gently taking the honey from the man's hands and setting it on the dresser next to the bed. "Carovo, I think I might stay here for the night." He smiled as he lay on top of the older man, resting his head on Carovo's chest and listening to him breathing.

He tensed for an instant after being rendered speechless, almost recalling something that had happened some time ago---try to take his honey, his tether to sanity, and distract him to sneak away quietly. But not this time, it seemed. The light weight on his chest didn't let up, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Sacrificing what he wanted to do? Why? "You don't have to..." He muttered. "That is, I wouldn't want you to think you have to stay." Now he felt like he was the one to be looked after. The way Max laid on his chest was both comforting and enticing, but he kept his hands from straying too far as they ran up and down his back. And he said it rather reluctantly---he didn't want to be alone right now, but didn't want anyone, especially Max, to feel as if he had to stay.

"I think it would be better, for both of us, if I stayed and kept you company... And you keep me company... If someone is out there looking for me, I shouldn't be getting too inebriated... I wouldn't be able to defend myself..." He would purr if he could, but instead he moved up Carovo's body and kissed his lips, letting the man's hands wander to other parts of his body.

"Besides, I liked the Surface wine you have here... Much better than beer or mushroom wine," he whispered, kissing Carovo again. "And you look like you need a glass or two..." He sat, glad that he was so light so he wouldn't crush Carovo as he looked down at him. He slowly took off his top, keeping his eyes fixed on Carovo's.

Carovo was tired, dusty from the dirt he'd dug in, but the look in Max's eyes had him hooked almost immediately. He slid his arms underneath him, pushing himself into a kiss and rolling Max onto the bed, feeling a buzz in his head like that of bees, as if he were suddenly under the influence of a drop of honey that didn't transport him to another place or time, but kept him here in an ideal moment that enlivened him, shoving aside sleep for a while longer. His lips and hands traveled a map generally unseen, never denied. It was as if two worlds---one of dream and one of reality---had collided from his recent past experiences.

Though soon enough, fatigue took over---the combined day's events and evening of worry, fear, and traveling to the Forgotten Quarter to battle its thick, compacted dirt had his mind screaming for rest. And he did, despite wanting to fight it. He often cursed immortality's odd rules---that one could go without food or drink as long as they liked and only grow thin and irritable, though sleep demanded one's full attention.

Max didn't push the man any further when he rolled off him, looking exhausted. They hadn't gotten far, but Max didn't mind. He rolled over slightly, moving along his side and resting in Carovo's arms. He waited for the man to fall asleep, hoping that his presence was enough to keep him off the honey for the night. If he was to give up alcohol, Carovo had to give up his vice.

Max rested his eyes, not really falling asleep. He listened to Carovo's heart beat and his heavy breathing, wondering about this older man he had become so attached to. Max had never been in love before, simply using other's affections for him for his own pleasure. He wondered if this was what it felt like. Blushing slightly, he rolled over so he face Carovo and kissed him lightly on the lips. The man was asleep, or seemed to be anyway. Max had heard that one could influence another's dreams by speaking to them while they slept. He lifted his head and whispered into Carovo's ear, hoping that it was enough to give him dream about.

"I love you, Carovo. We should go to the Surface together sometime..."

For once Carovo fell into a dream state that didn't include the Tomb-Colonies, or the oily waters of the Unterzee or the haunting moans of the drownies in the Stolen River. But he still didn't escape the cavern of Fallen London, either. He was walking in Spite, near a church whose name escaped him since it had changed several times over the years. He took a shortcut with a bag through the back alleys, depositing the bag in a trash can and hurrying away, toward Veilgarden, then away from Veilgarden and into a... garden. It was quiet here, with stunted trees and fungus patches expelling little clouds of spores underfoot.

"I love you..." He froze. That voice...? It sounded so familiar. Spinning around, Carovo came to face a hooded figure, but the face wasn't that of a devil or someone he didn't recognize. Somewhat light hair---brownish-copper. And jewel-like eyes, like sapphires. They almost glowed in their sockets as the figure pulled down his hood.

"You... aren't supposed to be here." His own voice sounded so hollow. As if he were speaking through a metal pipe. "I told you not to come, it's dangerous---!"

"I'm sorry! I thought..." The man bit his lip, as if fighting back a desire to cry. "I thought you'd come back... if I... came after you... I miss you, know? It... It's lonely..."

"I know, I know." Carovo stepped forward, pulling the young man into a hug. "I'm just so close. I'm so close to finding him! After I do I'll come back, I promise. I'll come back."

"But not now..."

The words were quiet. Broken. Carovo shook his head, feeling his eyes fill with tears as the young man turned, pulled the hood up, and stepped away. How had he even come back...? The garden faded for a while and he felt as if he were floating. The... surface? Who had said that? Who wanted to go to the surface? Was it the angel? That young twenty-something blonde man that looked like a celestial being. "Someday..." He muttered. "... I can show you the surface..."

Max sat on the old armchair by the fire, reading one of the various tabloid newspapers that were printed in Fallen London. Many a good rumour and Secret could be gleaned from these, with the addition to job listings and poems. Max read a particularly bad article about some man named Reet, who apparently wanted to marry his horse. Such things never ceased to amuse him, and he chuckled softly, taking a sip from the hot tea he had made for himself.

Carovo would be awake soon, Max knew that. But what would the day bring for the two? Max had a few things he had to do, shopping and thieving... He swallowed back sadness as he thought about his dear pet, Edgar again. That's when his eyes caught the small personal ad listed at the back of the paper. "Looking for Maximillion Edgewater. Reward." He shivered slightly and closed the paper, standing and moving towards the window. He had a strange feeling about all this, but tried not to dwell on it.

The only people that knew his last name other than himself were his dead parents and bird, and the killer of his family.

Carovo jolted awake and sat bolt upright, staring around the room. He almost expected to see someone, but he was alone. Then he remembered why he expected to see someone---the previous night. Sighing, he stood, stretched, and gathered clothes to take with him. For a moment he almost forgot about his jar of honey, until he had to find a second clean sock and saw one lying beside the jar. He scooped it up in his free hand, staring at the contents. It was such a beautiful, golden color. One thing down here that tasted just like what one could find on the surface, but didn't come from the surface specifically. His mind drifted back to the dream. He'd seen the man down here once. Once. And never again. If he took just a drop he could see him as if it were real.

He slammed the jar down and stalked out of the room, almost surprised to see Max walking around until he recalled his decision to let him stay. "Good morning..." He said, glancing at the clock. Yes, it was morning, by Fallen London's time, a little past seven. People would be getting up, headed to work, the gaslights would be burning lighter so that it looked a bit like daylight. But right now, Carovo needed to vanish for a bath. And this was what he did---pulling the door just slightly before shooing Scar out of the cool bath tub. The scroungy cat liked the cool metal, before it was heated and water was poured in. Here, at least, the building had running water on both levels.

Max heard the water and thought about his own longing for a nice hot bath. He decided against pressuring Carovo and decided to go to a small bath house, not too far away. First he would need some money, which wouldn't be too hard to come by, but it meant a whole day out and about without Carovo and with that person looking for him...

He sat back on the chair and pet the cat that now came into the room, eyeing his lap as though it was a throne. He picked up a nearby book, one that was typed and published in a hard leather binding. It was from an author he had never read before, and the way it was written was simply amazing. He had seen something about it being printed in a place he had never heard of and wondered if it was from the Surface.

"When you are done in there, I was wondering if you had some razors," he called over his shoulder towards where Carovo was bathing himself.

Carovo dove below the warm water, washing the dust of the broken city out of his hair, using a bottle of soap that smelled vaguely like the black roses that Prisoner's honey was harvested from. It had a faint honey-like sweetness that clung to his skin, and Carovo still didn't know why he even used it---it kept the idea of honey on his mind all day, should he catch a whiff on a draft or if he brought his arm or hand up to his face. Still, it was better than smelling like mildew or humidity or be free of any scent, so that more incriminating ones could settle.

He heard Max's voice when he came back up. and leaned against the curved back of the large basin. "I have a few on a shelf by the door here." He called back. He'd not used them in ages, though. Probably since the day he bound himself by word to that devil. Being suspended in on age by default, he was caught in the same appearance unless he altered it. He didn't know why he kept them around, though.

Max smiled and entered the room, glancing at Carovo in the bath before looking for the razors. He found a pair of sharp ones sitting on a sill near a large mirror, but didn't pick them up. He blushed slightly and watched Carovo in the reflection over his shoulder. "Um... Is it ok if... I mean..." He closed his eyes in embarrassment. "I never shaved myself... My... I was too young when my father died he didn't teach me... Um..." He opened his eyes again and stared into his own eyes, a strange experience...

"Could you help me when you are finished with your bath...?"

Carovo twisted his wet hair around a finger, the look on his face best described as 'distant', but he nodded when spoken to directly, and laughed a bit. "Well, it's been a while since I've used them." He admitted. In fact, it had been decades. How long exactly...? He hadn't kept the date in mind when he'd been conned, and from that day he hadn't used the razors. He hadn't wanted to, really, feeling the lightly fuzzy growth on his chin was just right. If he got rid of it, no more would grow. Ever. What fun was it in that? Still, as he drained the water and pulled a towel over him, Carovo was rather confident in his ability. "I've still got steady hands, at least."

One had to have especially steady hands and no perchance for accidental twitching when focusing. A light stroke was needed using such sharp blades, though even the most professional barber would from time to time cut, nick, or scrape. And sometimes one just couldn't handle such a thing at all.

Max smiled, glad that he could help him. Now the man was starting to sound like his Father, though Max shuddered at that thought. He found himself a chair to sit on, to make it easier for Carovo to shave him, and brought it to the bathroom. "I know I have to learn one day, it's just... I get a bit scared when I hold those blades to my throat... I'd rather trust a skilled individual."

He hoped Carovo was skilled enough, as the man did admit to not using the razors for a long time. How long exactly? He had some stubble on his chin that never seemed to grow. Perhaps Carovo was like him and didn't seem to age as fast as the average human?

When Max left the room, Carovo gathered up his fresh clothes and slid them on, tying the loose laces at the neck of the shirt and securing his pants with a tough brown belt. The passing glance in the mirror did tell the tale of a more disheveled appearance, but Carovo didn’t necessarily have it in mind to go to especially high-class events today. From the shelf beneath the mirror, he picked one of the razors up and flicked the blade out of the carved brass handle, running a thumb over the blade’s edge. It sliced through cleanly, letting him wince slightly before the wound knitted closed, and he licked the thin line of blood off his thumb.

Carovo pulled a jar of lotion off the shelf’s other side. It was smooth, he recalled, and did well to begin the healing process for any accidental cuts. “Have a seat.” He told Max. “Let’s get going with this.”

Max sat, shivering slightly with both excitement and awe. He lifted his chin, allowing the man to run the blade across his skin to cut off any hairs and to slather on the shaving cream and some lotion for any cuts. Max tried to pay close attention to how it was done, embarrassed that he had to get another man to shave his face. "If only there were razors that weren't so tricky to use," he commented when Carovo had the blade off his face.

"Thank you," he thanked, as Carovo was finished. He wiped a cool cloth over his now soft skin and smiled up at the red head, thinking of all sorts of ways he could pay him back. He stood and kissed Carovo, making sure to slip his tongue into the man's mouth to tease him. "You... Are a legend."

Carovo smiled, brushing a hand over Max's smoothed face. "If that's the thanks I get, I should make a habit of doing this more often." He commented lightly. He was glad to see that his talent with a sharp blade hadn't dwindled over the years, even after an especially long break and even after having had a break from his addiction for longer than normally. Usually he'd have already taken two more spoonfuls, lose himself in a dream of the Surface... Those surfacers didn't know how well they had it, taking everything for granted, the sun, the moon. The only way one could tell what stage the moon was in was by using the odd little moon-pearls people often made jewelry out of. Carovo had one, attached to a small bit of brass so he could wear it as a necklace.

Setting the razor back on its shelf, Carovo took the chair back into the front room, settling it back where it was by a small round table in the back. He couldn't believe how well he'd done. "Thank you." He said when Max followed. "It's... been a while since I've been able to completely forget about that... thing... that keeps me oblivious to the world." Maybe the world wasn't so terrible. As long as he had someone to keep him focused, anyway. But he still felt that itch at the back of his head, and the voice that told him it'd go away if he just took one more...

Max smiled and sat on the sofa, crossing his legs slightly and stroking his now smooth chin. He glanced at the clock on the wall and then back outside. "What are you up to today?" he asked the man, picking back up a novel he had started to read and flicking to the bookmarked page. He didn't particularly want to leave the safety of Carovo's house, especially with someone out there looking for him. He usually wouldn't care about this sort of thing, but something about it just... He thought of the dead bird and gulped.

"Who had his watches, anyway?" he asked the man, looking up from his book. He had hoped Carovo had found the bird's watches... Edgar would only be able to rest if he had his pride and joys with him.

Carovo sat on the other side of the sofa, staring at the embers in the fireplace. "I... never had anything in mind, specifically." He admitted. To be honest, he'd made the decision not to leave his apartment today because he'd been without honey for a bit too long. Soon enough he'd be shaking, with a dry mouth feeling grainy and sweet and uncomfortable, and that itch that spreads all over the scalp. And then the nightmares would come back in greater force, and he'd wake screaming with a terrified cat clawing at his stomach to bring him back to reality. He'd endured this a few times, when he'd run out of honey and was on a wild tangent to find more, truly feeling as if he'd lost his mind. No, he didn't feel like going out for a few days, at least...

The question had Carovo thinking about what it meant, until he recalled Edgar and his watch collection. "Oh, some urchin boy." He said after a moment. "He said a man gave them to him, but never said who, specifically... But I did bury Edgar with all of them." He nodded, looking at Max as if to promise him with a look. "Any time you want to visit him... I can take you." Perhaps before honey-withdrawal set in...

Max noticed the signs of withdrawal. He had them before when he couldn't afford more alcohol. He went towards Carovo and stroked the man's face, loving every line and shadow reflected there. "You can have some, if you want," he spoke softly, grabbing Carovo's shaking hands in his and steadying them. "You won't be alone anymore... You can take me to the Surface... And have me in your dreams as well as in reality..." He kissed Carovo's rough cheek, liking the stubble that he found there. True Max had never tasted honey before, but he had always secretly wanted to.

Carovo closed his eyes, feeling his hands being taken, lips against his cheek. He wasn't alone right now, though he did feel oddly isolated. "Hm?" He snapped his eyes up to focus on Max. "You want...? No." He shook his head, taking his hands back and clasping them so they wouldn't shake so much. "You've already got enough problems with alcohol, I can't let you try honey. It's more addictive than... anything. It takes you to a different place, like any other drug can't. I just tried it once at a honey den, and... that was it, I just got hooked on it just like that."

He would hate to see the same thing happen to Max, someone that already had a problem with one thing. And Carovo had figured out quickly that one could be drunk in a honey dream, and that combination could simply ravage the body and the mind. Until he had developed a tolerance for alcohol and most drugs, of course. And the journey to the surface itself? That was a real challenge in itself, because he and others like him had to take very secretive, twisting ways that lasted weeks and was always so dark.

Max pouted, feeling like his heart had stopped beating. Why did it hurt to hear the man say that to him...? He blinked and looked away, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. Perhaps Carovo didn't feel that same way about him as he did... He turned and went to the door, his hands shaking slightly. "OK then... I'll leave you to it... I'll just..." he trailed off, sadness catching in his throat. Perhaps he could go to the Mandrake, even though the walk was a bit further from Carovo's place. Instead, as he left the flat and walked down the stairs, he decided to find another bar nearby, no matter how much of a shithole it was.

Carovo was silent for a moment, and he hardly felt Max stand and move to the door. The words were simply tinny in the back of his head, as if they were from a dream---a real dream. When the door closed, though, it brought him back to reality and he stood quickly, running on unsteady legs to the door and diving out. "Max!" His voice held a tremor. "Max, w-wait!" The steps felt so shoddy when he ran down them---though they were indeed in need of replacement. He got to the bottom and grabbed the young man's arm, twirling him around. "I-I d-d-don't want y-y.... you to go." His voice was trembling now, the shiver in his hands and weakness in his legs spreading to his ability to speak. "I-I-I'll-ll le-et you t-t-try it... J-just once. Just o-on-once, oka-kay?" He didn't know what he'd do if he led Max to a new, more debilitating addiction. But the least he could do was let the young man see what a real sun looked like for once, even if it was just a dream.

Max stopped and looked at Carovo, wondering why he was shaking as much as he was. He smiled weakly and shook his head slightly, placing a hand on the rough cheek to soothe the man. "It's OK. I understand you don't want me to get addicted... Like you are..." He sighed and hugged Carovo, ignoring the stares from passerbys. "Are you OK...?" he looked at Carovo critically. "You look cold..." He kissed him on the lips and held his hand, lending the man some of his warmth.

He hugged Carovo again, this time not really wanting to let go. "We all have our scars..." He smiled weakly. "I just need some wine, and you need some honey. Later on we can... Spend a bit with each other... And you can tell me more about the Surface..." He let go and turned, ready to continue on his hunt for a bar to drink away this hurting sensation in his heart. That's when he saw the tall man standing across the street, his glowing red eyes watching him closely. Max stopped and backed up into Carovo, shaking slightly.

"Maximillion... I found you... At last..." the devil spoke with a voice and smooth as velvet, as he approached the pair.

Carovo latched onto Max when he hugged him, and almost felt broken when he had to let go. No, he was broken, only just held together by sticky golden glue that would always begin eroding if he didn't constantly replenish it. But he was shaking so bad, he needed to disappear into a honey dream. Maybe he could dream of him again....

He only came back to reality when he felt Max recoil into him, and a voice... such a familiar type of voice, too. A devil, who could debate? No human had a voice so inherently smooth, so seductive as a devil. He moved in front of Max, feeling his heart begin to race, and his skin crawl. He'd hated devils for years now. Too many years to count! Too many years, yet his hatred only grew every time a devil spoke to him. True, perhaps not all of them wanted his soul, wanted him in general, but they were all the same, an inherited trait each were born with. That hungry stare at a human that still possessed their soul, that feigning sweetness, the expensive gifts, the late-night visits and lovely smile. Who could resist a devil's amber gaze, their clean-cut appearance, their warm grasp, how hot their skin was against one's own, like heated brass.

Carovo gritted his chattering teeth, gathering the will to steady his voice: "W-why did yo-you va-andalize Max's h-home?" He just... knew it was this devil. He knew Max's full name, after all, surely he'd been the one that left that ominous message on the door.

"Me? Oh... No... You've got me all wrong, my dear... man..." the devil looked Carovo up and down and sneered, as though sensing who and what he was. "No, that was the street urchins that did that." He smiled in a sweet way, trying to move closer towards his target. Max watched him with curious, but frightful eyes.

"Vandalised...?" Max blinked remembering faintly what Carovo had told him about his house. He backed away from the devil, his eyes staring hard at those burning red ones.

"Come now, I just want to talk to you Maximillion Edgewater. I've been looking for you for a long time. We must catch up, perhaps over some tea?" the devil kept up his professional and seductive manner. There was no way either man could know what his true intentions were. He could almost taste the blonde's blood as he came closer, wondering if he could feel that beautiful pale skin against his before he destroyed the pretty man.

"Wh-who are you? How do you know my name...? Why have you been looking for me...?" Max questioned, staying behind Carovo and stammering a bit. He felt so intimidated. Something didn't feel right inside his chest. This creature...

"Well... It would be a shame if a father didn't know the name of his son, now, wouldn't it?" the devil smirked as he dropped the bombshell, watching the two humans' reactions. Max's eyes widened, but he shook his head.

"Liar, I know who my father was and he is dead," he pointed at the devil, shaking slightly. "You are just trying to trick me, to steal my soul!"