9 Good Rules Make Good Roommates.

On her blindside, a gigantic, wing backed, leather arm chair in oxblood (it could literally have been wheeled over via time machine from a Charles Dickens era Gentleman's Club) sat by a newly installed and already well stocked book shelf. It was the kind of chair that would have been a good look for Lucifer.

It was currently occupied by Sango and his tall, broad figure filled it well.

"hAck!" Bisola said eloquently.

He was dressed simply in a loose, black jalabiya - silk, most likely - with silvery embroidery at the unbuttoned lapel and cuffs. The fit was loose but were it touched him it clung to his ridiculous physique like it wanted to be wet and made it hard for Bisola to look directly at him and think at the same time.

She was coming to hate the whole him looking like a construct of her horniest fantasies thing.

Quickly, she swallowed back excess saliva and changed her response to, "You scared me!"

"You chose to remain." Sango remarked.

"Did you think turning my home into, I dunno - " she waved her hand around at the refurbishing "- a LAIR would make me run away? Jokes on you, I happen to do very well in luxurious settings!"

Bisola wasn't sure if it was a trick of the new, sexy, spot lighting but she could've sworn she saw the corner of his mouth twitch under his beard.

"I somehow doubt that." he muttered as if to himself.

"What was that?" Bisola blinked at the insult.

"Since you're here, I think we should establish some ground rules going forward," the god continued as if she hadn't spoken.

Bisola frowned. "If there're going to be any ground rules shouldn't I-"

"Number 1, my sanctuary is out of bounds to you." Sango cut her off casually, "You are not invited to enter it even if I'm not within it."

"Your what?" Bisola's frown deepened.

"Number 2, you will familiarize yourself with all the relevant rules, rituals and ceremonies involved with my entertainment that you have been furnished with by the office of the Magba."

The whomst? The what???

"Number 3, I will never again suffer what you presented to me when I asked to be served Amala. I can not emphasize rule number 3 enough."

At this point, Bisola was genuinely speechless.

"Number 4, for the extent of my stay here, you may address me as Kabiyesi or not at all. I would, of course, prefer the latter."

"Number 5, you will devote what time and effort I deem as enough to undoing what you did to bring me here."

"Number 6, do not touch - actually, do not even breath near Ose. That's the Axe. Disobey that one and we may both end up homeless."

"Number 7... You're not writing this down?"

He was peering down at her from his seated position. Bisola wondered how he did that. She hesitated, not entirely sure he was looking for a response.

They looked at each other blankly.

"No." She finally admitted the obvious.

Sango's brows descended but Bisola noted that his eyes did not combust this time. She took that as a good sign. He merely glowered at her. It was uncommonly hot but otherwise quite human.

"Then, what is your reason for not writing down my laws? Are they being inscribed in your heart?" He rumbled sternly. Also very sexily, Bisola thought before she could stop herself.

It's the fatigue she reassured herself. Definitely not the casual power of his relaxed sprawl in that large, leather chair.

Bisola sighed, cursing her inability to lie convincingly then admitted reluctantly. "Sir, I'm hungry."

There was a heavy silence roughly 3 seconds long. Long enough for Bisola to note and appreciate the secret hum of the brand new top of the line AC unit installed in an unobtrusive corner behind some lovely palms.

Without it she was sure that she would have sweated ugly, large, dark circles under her sleeves just from the steady intensity of his glare.

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