j- bees?

Aesop choked on air as Charon spoke. "Beta?" he managed, the statement coming out unbidden. Immediately, he bowed into a more submissive posture, one more appropriate to the disparity between their ranks (or lack thereof.) "Sorry," he said, not a moment later. "Sorry, I just. Things have changed, huh?" His eyes drifted to Atreyu's missing leg. "Really changed." His posture could hardly be called groveling, but groveling wasn't a thing Aesop did. As it was, his tail was tucked between his legs, and his head was low to the ground, his eyes averted but for quick darts up to look between Atreyu and Charon. Perhaps he was bitter about having to prostate himself before a child. And maybe he was a bit bitter about Charon occupying a role he had once coveted himself. 

Charon demanded his reason for leaving. "Ain't as good as Atreyu's, here. I was needed elsewhere. I wouldn't have left if it wasn't necessary," he said, tone pleading. It wasn't the truth, but it wasn't quite a lie. The truth was that he'd gotten scared. Fighting Burke has woken something in him, and he began to see enemies in every shadow. Nowhere felt safe. And then there was the boy, Alastor. He was young, and Aesop was afraid to feel anything for him. He was afraid to love him. He was afraid to love anything, because he didn't get to keep the things he loved.

Not that he would ever tell Charon that. Or anyone. His pride wouldn't allow it.

"I'm back. And I'll do whatever it takes to stay."