#vortex.start

“Estoy vencido,” Angel huffed as he wiped some sweat off his face and laid back against the wall. “I don’t know how many more years of this I got in me. Pretty soon, all you youngins are going to be one-upping me.” Angel said with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

You should actually visit the studio once in a while, they said. Maybe your reviews wouldn’t be so critical if you actually met the talent and the crew, they said. Well, here Jesse is, defeating the point of actually visiting by tucking himself away in a chair in the back, in a slump of scuffed jeans and plaid, last month’s magazine draped over one knee and a draft covered in red pen for a review of a dildo modeled after one of the actors. The director’s had to tell him three times now to stop smacking his pen on the chair during a scene.

He would pass on that one, personally.

What he had snagged, however, was a rogue wisp of mistletoe, which he had immediately taken to draping over his own head whenever he spied someone cute enough to take the time for. ... Which, admittedly, was the majority of the event.

He sidled up to the next lucky bachelor, feeling just buzzy and warmed enough from eggnog to close the distance completely and press his bare chest against the other employee's side.

"Oh, funny that. Y'know what they say about mistletoe, darlin'?"