Malvor leans against the doorway, arms crossed, eyes raking over her, himself? with the kind of delight usually reserved for new mirror angles.
"Annie, Pantheon Princess or should I say Prince?" he purrs, voice low and wicked, "you have never looked better. Absolute perfection."
She raises one elegant Malvor brow. "You are unwell."
He grins. "Possibly. But look at you." He saunters closer, circling her like a wolf. "That jawline. Those cheekbones. That chaotic glint in your eyes. Mmm. You are perfect."
"Because I look like you?" She sneers at him with his own signature sneer.
"Exactly." He stops in front of her, him? and runs a finger softly down the center of her chest with a slow hum. "I should really date me more often."
Annie as Malvor smacks his hand away. "You are absolutely the worst."
"Yet here we are." He presses close, their matching eyes meeting. "Tell me, if I kiss you, does that count as narcissism, self-care, or a divine experience?"
She narrows her eyes. "Try it, and I will bite you."
"Ooooh, promise Annie Beasty?"
She turns on her heel, marching toward the library, her long coat billowing dramatically. He follows like an eager puppy.
"Wait, wait, wait," he says, practically vibrating with amusement. "You do not feel like me, you know. You move differently. It is fascinating. You are all," He makes vague hand gestures. "restrained chaos instead of unhinged brilliance. Honestly, nine out of ten Malvor impressions, would recommend."
"I will never stop regretting this decision," she mutters.
He lounges against the door frame, watching her go. "Annie, my sweet chaotic clone, you might regret it but I am thriving."
Malvor sprawled across a velvet chaise, one leg flung dramatically over the armrest like a magazine centerfold for Divinely Unhinged Monthly. He nibbled on grapes Arbor had conveniently floated into his hand, watching Annie, who still wore his face, pace the room with simmering annoyance.
"Annie," he said, sitting up slowly, voice molten silk, "I must be honest with you…"
She turned sharply, crossing her arms in his signature way. "If this is about how good I look, I swear on every god above and below—"
"You have never looked sexier," he interrupted reverently, hand over his chest. "This... this is art. I am art. But you, wearing me? That is performance art."
Annie as Malvor pinched the bridge of her nose. "You are completely unwell."
"Emotionally, spiritually, sexually, yes. And right now, extremely attracted to myself."
She wheeled around to walk away, the long black coat swishing just like his. His eyes widened with pure delight.
"You even walk like me!" he gasped. "Annie, it is uncanny. You've got the power swagger. That is it, I am making you do a fashion show. We will call it Malvor: The Chaos Collection."
She stopped, pointing a very dramatic, gloved finger. "I will punch you hard in your beautiful smug face."
"Oh, please do," he whispered.
Later that evening, Annie had barricaded herself in the library. Malvor, not to be deterred by petty things like boundaries or sanity, burst in carrying two goblets of rich red wine and a bottle clutched in his elbow.
"Annie, my dashing doppelgänger, allow me to seduce you, with you!"
She did not look up. "Leave me alone."
He flopped beside her. "This is self-care. You need to pamper yourself, which, in this case, is me." He slid a goblet toward her. "Drink it. It is aged chaos and regret with subtle notes of mischief."
She took the glass begrudgingly. "This is the dumbest moment of my life."
"Is it though?" He leaned close, inspecting her fake face with far too much glee. "Let me give you a massage. My shoulders look so tense."
"You are trying to seduce me with myself."
"Yes. And it is going incredibly well."
He poured more wine. "You know, if I had to choose one form for eternity..." He gestured at her. "It might be this. You are... majestic."
She raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to call you 'Daddy' while wearing your face?"
Malvor clutched his chest like she had physically struck him. "Annie. I am a god. I am divinity. Do not tempt me with such filth unless you intend to follow through."
She downed her entire glass in one sip.
"I hate this," she said, standing.
He watched her with twinkling eyes. "I love this. We are unwell, and I want you more than ever. You are practically glowing."
"That is because Arbor gave me a facial mask made of powdered stardust and bad decisions."
He grinned wide. "Annie, you glorious disaster, I have never been prouder. Shall we go ruin someone else's day now?"
"Only if I get to punch someone in your face."
"Deal."
They clinked their glasses.
And somewhere, somehow, Arbor rolled their nonexistent eyes.
Annie, still wearing Malvor's face, tossed back the last of her second glass of wine like it was water and she had just survived a desert. The moment the goblet hit the table, she was up, stalking toward him with a glint in her eye that said: Oh, you want chaos? Buckle up, pretty boy.
Malvor leaned back with interest, eyebrows raising in slow delight. "Annie? What are you—"
She got right in his face. Inches away. His own smug, impossibly attractive face mirrored back at him, now filled with mischief and menace. She dragged her eyes slowly down his body, then back up, biting her bottom lip in a way that felt… deeply personal.
"You know…" she murmured in his voice, dropping into a deep, sultry purr, "you are even hotter up close. I have been watching you all day, so powerful, so dramatic. All that tension in your jaw? The way your coat swishes when you walk? You are like forbidden wine and sin wrapped in a suit. You make me want to misbehave."
Malvor's soul briefly left his body.
"Annie—"
She did not stop. Oh no. She circled him like a predator, dragging her finger across his shoulder and down his chest, tapping each button on his shirt. "Tell me, God of Chaos… do you ever get tired of being so devastatingly gorgeous?"
He audibly choked. "Annie."
She leaned in again, nose brushing his. Her hand slipped into his hair, his actual hair. "Because if I looked like this all the time, I would never wear clothes again. I would just walk around basking in the awe of everyone around me. What is it like being this irresistible? Are you exhausted by the constant sexual energy?"
Malvor's entire brain short-circuited. "I. I am. You—"
She whispered, smug and slow, "Do you want me to call you Daddy, Malvor?"
He let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a whimper and a whine, and dropped onto the couch like a man freshly struck by lightning.