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As if by habit, Aventurine chuckles, straightening his posture. Taking another sip of his drink, he takes his time turning to you and meeting your disapproving gaze.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite assistant," he hums, the glass still hovering above his lips, the nectar within just a few bits away from pouring into his mouth. "What brings you all the way here?"

As he doesn't already know the answer.

"You, who else?" You sound exasperated, but your words bring upon satisfaction as his smile grows wider.

"Aww," Aventurine coos. He downs the rest of his drink, setting it down on the bar before leaning on the counter towards you, propping his head up on his palm. "Was someone worried about me?"

Again, he eagerly awaits for your answer.

You give him a tired look, one that he's seen many, many times in his career. Yet you decide to indulge him, a defeated sigh leaving you.

"Obviously," you say bluntly. "You'll destroy your liver at this rate."

Aventurine laughs good-naturedly, the corners of his mesmerizing eyes crinkling.

"Well, aren't you sweet."

He pushes himself off the counter to stand, and shrugs on the fur coat that was hanging off his stool. With a gloved finger, he tips your chin towards him.

"I must apologize for worrying you, my dear," he says sweetly. You furrow your brows at the nickname, but Aventurine pays no mind as he quickly pays off his tab and saunters off to the building's exit. He looks back at you, amusement flickering behind those rose-tinted glasses as you stare at him, dumbfounded yet too tired to care for his antics. "Aren't you going to see me home?"

You don't remember saying anything of the sort, and Aventurine knows this, but in the end, he's still your boss and you have to do what he asks of you.

Reluctantly, you follow him out. Aventurine slings an arm around you as you come close and pulls you flush against his side as you walk down the streets of the city. When you don't protest, but rather, subtly lean into his hold, Aventurine internally breathes a sign of relief.

He doesn't treat anyone else like this, much less a subordinate. The Amber Lord knows what people have been whispering about the two of you at headquarters. But he can't help it, not when you're the only one to actively seek him out and not push him away, as annoyed with him as you sound.

Something about that attracts him to you, as much as he hates to admit it. Time and time again, whenever you take the time out of your already busy work schedule to check on him, like now, he can't stop his heart from beating a little bit faster.

"Your breath reeks of alcohol," you comment, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Is that so?" Aventurine hums thoughtfully. "I wonder why."

You roll your eyes. "If you need a distraction that badly, have you tried seeking therapy?"

"That's hardly a distraction, my dear," Aventurine chuckles. "No, unless you can come up with a better idea, I think I'll stick to the clubs."

"Or you could come to me."

You expect another laugh, but instead, Aventurine stiffens as if shocked by a lightning bolt. His eyes widen, his mouth slightly agape as he stares at you. But by the time you notice and look back to him, Aventurine's smile is back, only this time, something dark lingers behind his irises.

"Hm, I don't know about that one," he says easily, his arm falling back to his side as he quickens his pace. "You know, it isn't nice to say things you don't mean."

Indignation flashes across your face, and something in Aventurine's chest tightens.

"Sir-"

And yet, he persists despite himself.

"We should get going."

His tone is flat, still lighthearted, but warning this time. You open your mouth to protest, but think better of it and shut your lips.

The walk back to the car is quiet, deafeningly so. You still walk by Aventurine's side, but now, there's a considerable distance between you two.

Aventurine's fingers twitch, and for a moment, he almost reaches towards you, only to catch himself and reign his hand back to his side. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and calms himself.

Yes, this is how it should be, he thinks to himself as he enters the car. He leans on the door and gazes outside at the nightclub, still raving despite it all.

An escape, a distraction, that was what he sought out most. But it couldn't come from you.

He'd rather die before he'd let that happen.