Altogether too used to being the bystander, Athena perched atop the amphitheater, singular wing spread wide, an unlit cigarette held loosely between two long, taloned fingers. As your PR manager and supervisor, it was rare for him to warrant public perception– yet you had requested him to be there for reasons he couldn’t have possibly been bothered to find out himself. Office work was mundane, after all: he found no joy in his routine surveillances. The only time anything got interesting was when he personally oversaw the belated demise of someone his superiors (there weren’t many of them left; Athena dreaded the day when he would have to make his own decisions) found mildly annoying.

Or when you were involved.

But he was much too polite to rip apart the flimsy silk curtain that just barely veiled your secrets from desperate, preybird eyes.

A soft yawn stirred in the back of his ribs; he let it out as a half-done birdsong from between his teeth. Pigeons gathered at his feet. He paid it no mind. For all the work he put in, it was dreadfully boring to watch something as mundane as a speech.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a European starling. A passerine bird. Scientific name: Sturnus vulgaris. They were easy to find. Easy to sink himself into. Easy to pilot, and easy to kill off.

He let his mind wander to the end of your schedule. Debated whether or not you would come looking for him behind the curtains, so he could capture the scent of your perfume again, and imagine what it would feel like to have your fingers in his hair. You had braided it once before, and he thought for a moment that he could give up his smoke breaks and even another raise to experience that again.

Until, unfortunately, he focused back into your speech at the worst possible time. He took back his earlier words. He wished he’d have been bothered to find out what you’d added.

And finally, I would like to thank Athena came first. My wonderful spouse was next.

Athena couldn’t stop the shock from spreading across his face, something frigid with anger and hope clenching at his heart. He hadn’t had the time to notice that you were off the stage by the time he roused himself from his stupor, wondering if it was possible for him to at least attempt throwing in his two cents as per usual.

But the sight of you made him want to reach out and tug you back, to salvage whatever time he would lose if he let you walk away this time.

“I don’t remember that part of your speech. Didn’t I tell you not to improv?”

Somehow it was harder than usual to keep his intonation flat, to stop himself from darting away.

“Either way, HR wants you to know that it’s unprofessional to joke about marriage.”