"Melts in your mouth like butter. You'll love it."
"No."
"Just one bite. Come on." He inched a flavored scone towards Deckard's lips. "A nibble?"
"No."
"Pretty please."
"No, Tristan." Deckard finally snapped, pushing his arm away.
Tristan beamed, obviously proud about his handiwork. "That's the spirit. You'll be hot and boiling in no time." He threw the rejected scone into his mouth and munched. He moaned. "Tastes like sex."
Deckard sighed. "I'm trying to concentrate here."
"On what? Your self-imposed celibacy?"
"Work, Tristan. We have a company to run, remember?"
Tristan shrugged. "Last I checked you are the boss and I'm the deputy boss. We get to have fun while our lackeys do all the gritty work. Its only fair."
"Go have fun in your room, Tristan."
"There's no fun in loneliness." He waited for a heartbeat, got no response as expected, before trying again. "You care for a mug of tea, sir?"
