“A job?” Ishca looked over at his bed mate with disapproval written all over his features. “Me? A job?”
“Yeah,” Aki’s soft brow furrowed in the centre. Ishca thought the motion was adorable, and when he reached out to poke at the lines, he dove into a memory of Aki sitting at the wheel in some pottery studio, but not his own, turning a lump of clay into beauty with his hands. The empath could have happily gotten lost in the vision for hours, but Aki’s physical presence brought him swiftly back