Altar of Twilight I know you are a [m]an of honor, I'm so sorry to bother you at home

It didn't make sense to Charon, none of it. Her words only further proved to him that she had come here on purpose, that this was all her fault. He didn't want to ruin their friendship, but her scent was intoxicating. "I — have there been any?" Almost as if trying to convince himself that he should not go for it because there may have been others already, when he also knew he shouldn't go for it at all, no matter the worth of the prize. The likely cost was too high. "You should've picked someone beforehand," he said, "To make sure it was someone worthy, and not just any asshat strong enough to force himself on you and doesn't even know the prize he has in his grasp." It was strange how reason mixed into some parts of his brain while others were completely void of such reason at the moment.

He licked his lips as he looked at her, still feeling torn between coming closer and moving further away; both as a friend and a male. She was so entangling and yet aside from all of the hormonal drive he felt he also wanted to protect her as her friend, make sure nobody came close, make sure no one would take her prize without his consent. But he knew that road would not lead anywhere pretty and that he shouldn't walk it. The only true path was to turn around and leave, but he found himself rooted in place.