For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Michael leaned back into the sofa, his gaze lingering on Jester, but his thoughts had already drifted elsewhere.
In the past year, there had only been one existence he had never been able to fully understand how he felt toward.
That was Jester.
Things had certainly improved after Jester became his undead, but Jester's nature made it difficult not to find him unsettling at times.
Jester did not act against him. But it acted for him in ways that even Michael himself would hesitate to.
Michael knew for a fact that if he told Jester to protect someone other than his family without further instructions, and if the person could still live without their limbs, Jester would do exactly that for the sake of efficiency. As long as the task was completed, the method was secondary.
That could be seen as a good or bad thing depending on who was judging, and every time Michael found himself unable to lean firmly in either direction.
