#bimet

You don’t really talk to Bimet and it absolutely has everything to do with how he treats those that have no money to their name. And also because of the way he treated you upon first introductions but his treatment of those that are poor are a bigger red flag than anything.

So his absolute one-eighty turn once Mammon claimed himself to be yours annoyed you more than anything. You never met a bigger whore for money than this man.

That being said, in a weird, logical sense, you understand why Mammon keeps Bimet so close. If you were to look at Mammon as a being that is inseparable from wealth, as Mammon being wealth itself, than there would be no better worshiper than Bimet. However, this logic doesn’t really carry over in the way Bimet probably wants it to be carried.

Because the rule that Mammon works under is that "everything belongs to him." From the walls, to the gold lining the streets to even the coins lost down the sewer drain. Anything and everything belongs to Mammon, and therefore nothing belongs to you when you are under his rule. Bimet craves to have wealth under his possession, but how can he have anything if the king he serves never views it as his in the first place?

That being said…

“He’s infuriating…” you grumbled under your breath as you poked at your leftovers. Bimet was sitting across from you, as though he belonged in the same space you were in when he was so scornful of it before. Currently, on a fancy little handkerchief you’re pretty sure he never had before, was a small pile of golden coins that have been shined to near mirror perfection.

Right after eating his food, he began cleaning them, as though any speck of dirt was a sin to be erased.

“Is he now?” Mammon whispered right back to you, a smile wide on his face as though laughing at some inner joke, “if you want him gone, just say the word. You have that power over all my belongings. Though,” Mammon leaned against his chair, crossing his arms, “Well, I’m sure his reaction will be entertaining all the same.”

“I could, I could,” you mused. The thought is tempting, to watch him drag his feet out of the restaurant in that sullen manner. Then, you noticed Bimet’s attention was away from his coins, “Give me a moment.”

You leaned over and quickly grabbed a single coin from the top and slid it under a thick wrinkle in the handkerchief.

Mammon raised an eyebrow but kept his lips shut. You’re glad to see he’s not judging you for playing dangerous games. Well, it would be dangerous if your safety wasn’t guaranteed by the king by your side.

“Now be quiet!” Bimet shouted, “If I miscount again I will–” Then he finally noticed the coin missing from his pile. That certainly didn’t take long. “What?”

You sipped on your drink, long and slow as Bimet began to sweat, rage and distress overflowing from him in equal measures and he flipped his gaze from you to Mammon.

Mammon simply leaned his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes as though about to nap while you raised an eyebrow in question, as though you didn’t know a thing.

And, because he obviously can’t just accuse you or Mammon in a place as public as this, Bimet instead turned his angry rich self towards the rest of the public. “Who stole my money?!”

And so his penny-pinching rage began. The notes in his hair shook and shriveled as his robes flared around him. The devils just peacefully eating their meals froze up while others continued eating as though this was another Tuesday.

And, while he was turned around, you slipped the coin right back to the top of the pile.

Bimet took in a deep breath, not containing his rage so much as he was collecting it so he can release it on the culprit later. When his focus was back on his collection of coins, the choking duck noise he made almost made you burst out laughing.

Instead you snorted and hide it in Mammon’s hair. Easily can be confused for a gentle goodnight kiss. You can feel his body shivering with contained laughter.

Bimet quickly shoved the coins into the folds of his clothing. He bowed to you both, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be putting these in a better, more safe place.”

You waved him away, not really caring if he decided to go down the nearest cliff or go to the park. It’s all the same to you: he going away.

“So,” you tapped at Mammon’s forehead, his eyes opening, “you keep him as not just a right-hand man, but a royal entertainer as well?”