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    August 2nd, 2018

    Morning- to Late PM Later

    Morgan Institute for Behavioral Medicine

    Morgan Community Gym

     

     

    Fingertips rubbed a velvety petal between them, the saturated purple such a beautiful hue.  It felt so soft, delicate, reminded him of Mack’s skin, the thought immediately bringing a fierce internal reprimand over his brow.  She was everywhere in his apartment, the scent of her, the haze of delirium unable to be scrubbed from the sheets, or the furniture no matter what he did.  She still lived there despite being gone, taunting him with an ethereal grace that he couldn’t touch.  More than a taunt.  A vicious and unforgiving wrench to their state of affairs.

     

    She was gone, and they couldn’t be together.

     

    The killer slowly picked across the massive African violet with intent care as he groomed it, hands skilled at sucking the life from anything and everything he touched were so delicate with the only possession he really cared about.  It thrived when nothing else did, and now Sophia wasn’t doing well, the purse of his features always a crapshoot whether rehearsed or real as he watered the giant plant.  It had been with him since the beginning, and now even it was dying.  Mrs. Kolcheck was dying.  Sophia was dying.  The Vanguard prevented anything from ever being allowed to be with Mack, and he was no closer to her would-be killer than he was the night he’d discovered the bitch.

     

    Soft sigh signaled he was done.  The vibrant green was fading, petals were dropping, a complete reflection of how he felt on the inside.  Still, work didn’t stop for his moods, there were people that needed him and he needed to get into the office.  The rain dreary day made it all the worse, locking his apartment in his professional looking khakis and button down, fractured green glancing across the hall to a door where Mrs. Kolcheck wasn’t- in the nursing home and doubtful to return.  That would mean he would have to clean out the apartment for her, and someone else would move in.  Gears would turn, life would move on and leave the miserable Were to continue to hate the world in silence.  He was always just a stone’s throw, a twig snap away from unleashing hell on earth.  A rock to his patients, a killer in the shadow.

     

    Maybe he just needed a pet.

     

    Ride to work was quiet, dreary mist pattering on the windshield of his Mercedes SUV, parking in his new office.  It had been finished for some time, old patients and new flocking in to improve their lives, never knowing the person giving them advice was a serial killer Were.  The kind the Vanguard feared, the one that should have been put down a long time ago.  Before becoming attached to Mrs.  Kolcheck, before Mack, before becoming a pillar in the community of a broken world.  If the world only knew his secrets, the horror would bring him down with pitchforks and blazing torches.

     

    [kai]Good morning,[/kai]  he greeted his secretary with a voice that disarmed anyone, hummed in his chest with a sultry smoke.  That was why they trusted him.  He could be anything to anyone... except Mack.  That was why she'd gotten under his skin.

     

    He poured himself a cup of coffee -one of the only scents that didn't trip the beast- seethed on the inside with a smile that fooled the world… and settled in to the polished and fashionable counselors office for the day.

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    The last client had just stepped from his doors, a soft smile pressing dimples to his cheeks with warm understanding.  She was a tough one, refused to walk away from a relationship that kept abusing her.  Not physical, mental. She would spend the week getting broken down, then come to him to build back up.  There were some times he really wanted to follow her home and put a knife through her partner’s neck.  But he didn’t do that, unless he was under order… or it was life and death.

     

    Skin shivered, locking up quietly and cutting lights from the front of his office and the side gym.  There were no classes that evening, it didn’t keep him from needing to run the gamut of his own wares.  Office quiet, he pulled an ever present gym bag from his closet and wandered with a purpose back out to the front.  It had been renovated exactly the way he wanted.  Training and self-defense classes in the front of his building, his gentle feeling offices in the back.  It was his dream realized, though his world was freaking out on him at the moment.  He really needed a run, but usually avoided until it was dark.  His stamina tended to catch unwanted attention, and with the recent destruction over the city on altered sympathizing business it wasn’t a good idea to fly that flag. 

     

    His secretary had gone home about an hour ago.  She was done at five.  He never had a habit of keeping her late, it wasn’t fair and well… he could take care of himself.

     

    In the small locker room, he pulled off his suit and hung it carefully, black pants with white stripes on the sides and a dark gray tee peeled over his torso.  It was hours before his focus seemed to falter, running on the treadmill until one would think a normal person would collapse, then skipping rope at an insane pace.  He missed the feeling of being exhausted, it was just so damn hard to get himself there now.  It wasn’t until the lights of the city rolled on did he hear it.  Patter of rain turning to mist, the traffic out front had quieted.  Something quiet and odd.  Desperate.

     

    He heard it again, the rope clicking slower and finally stopping.  Hands pressed to his hips, focusing on his breath.

     

    Again.

     

    What the hell was that?

     

    Silent footsteps brought him through the dim building, snatching his Navy beanie and pulling it on over his ears before stepping out into the dark parking lot behind the building.  He was following something.  A scent, a sound.  Rain made everything torturous, heightened sounds, saturated scents.  It was a nightmare.  He let the door slip from his fingertips gently, air drawn over his tongue to “taste” what he was hearing… the mewl again sickly.

     

    Kneeling next to a grate in the empty lot behind his building, oddly enough partially under the tire of his car, it came again.  A kitten, the tiniest thing he had ever seen, was sitting in the filth three feet under the grate.  Gripping it, he tugged gently, teeth bared at the tire of his truck with a soft growl.  Water was running through the tunnel below, no doubt had washed it down there in the first place.  He could run and get his keys or… Quick eyes checked to make sure the coast was clear, a sharp shove moving his truck the half foot needed to come off the grate and allow him to open it and reach in.  A grimy, gray tiny thing emerged.

     

    Immediately hissing and batting at him with teeny claws bared.

     

    Thumb and fingers dangled it in front of him by the nape of its neck, the rumble in his chest making it blink.  This was not happening.  He didn’t nurture live things… or did he?  He would take it to the shelter.  The shelter would be closed by now.  What would he do until tomorrow morning?

     

    Damn it!

     

    Pupils narrowed again at the grate, unable to see anything, hand leaning in to reach around…. Getting bit.

     

    This time his growl was audible, abnormally large canines bared at the dark stinking hole as he reached back into it and snatched the now cowering other.  There were no more after the second.  He couldn’t hear or smell anything.  Holding them both up at eye level, he stood fluidly and proceeded to figure out what to do with them.

     

    How could his night get any worse?

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    Guest Charlie Steele

    The sun had gone down at last, and released its prison-warden hold upon the vampire who had spent the last hour of its rule pacing just on the other side of the massive blackout blinds she had fitted the loft with. It wasn’t a good evening for Charlie, a restless hunger was building up, too long, she’d just waited too long to feed. The sensation of her need was a sickening prickle along the back of her throat, as if she could feel the tissues desiccating in the absence of nourishment. 


     


    It was becoming an unhealthy habit of hers, this delaying before she fed. It wasn’t as if there was any difficulty in finding a blood source. Other, more traditional vampires within the city had their own damn blood bank she could have frequented. Still, that required not only a doling out from her precious funds, but it also meant revealing her close-kept secret. Within this city, that was less than wise, it could be suicide. Because to expose herself to other vampires meant inviting those awkward questions Ellis had repeatedly warned against. She had no sire, at least not in the traditional sense. Drugs were her sire, how sweetly ironic. She would be deemed ‘hesek’, and unless she had the desire to proclaim herself otherwise, it was best to merely lay low and avoid interactions with the Sheut. 


     


    No, the easiest source of a feed was denied to her. That meant she had to hunt for her dinner. Again, simple enough in theory. In a city the size of New York there would always be those whose absence would sound no alarms. Chaos reigned supreme, now more than ever, she could pick off a few weak creatures from the flock without bringing an investigation down on her head. It was merely a matter of taste preference. Those individuals who could most easily be disposed of without notice were the dregs of an already low society…drunks, addicts…they left a taste in her mouth that she abhorred. As if their very blood could infect her with the brokenness of their lifestyle. This is where the irony arose. For so long she was no different, living that same godless existence. The synthetic poison she had worshipped only a matter of years ago, that she had centered her world around, now brought the bitterness of bile to her tongue. It made her nauseated even in the rancid after taste of it on the blood of her victims. 


     


    There it was, even feeding lacked any pleasure for her. 


     


    Gods dammit! 


     


    Charlie was an equitable sort in her frustration, why call upon a single deity when you could swear the entire pantheon down upon something? 


     


    Claustrophobia crept in, spilling from the blackened outlines of her windows and seeping through the brick and mortar walls, it pressed in like a thousand unseen hands. She shuddered and wiped a palm over skin grown clammy at the nape of her neck. She needed to get out of the building. A muted rainfall could just be heard bathing the architecture outside, and it promised to wash away the rising displeasure that heated her body. She hungered for that cooling slide of raindrops over a too-warm face. A low snarl built up in her throat, the precursor to a tantrum as the diminutive vamp stormed through the studio apartment, small legs eating up the distance too easily for comfort. White fangs became visible as mauve lips pulled back in her annoyance. She snatched a plate off the counter and threw it into the wall in a fit of temper. The sound of it smashing was almost soothing in its destruction. She clutched at whatever else was available and flung it without thought. It hit a beam, this time with a low thunk that drew her gaze. The cleaver quivered only slightly, buried nearly to the handle in the dark wood, so that only half an inch of damascus steel was visible. 


     


    Charlie raked fingers through her hair. She needed to get a grip. 


     


    When the sun finally dipped below the horizon, she could feel the change without disturbing any of the blinds. Finally! She was free. Without even pausing to snatch up a wallet or a jacket, the vampire fled her lair. Down the steps her light footsteps barely audible, and out through the back door of her studio where she only stopped long enough to lock up. Being a supernaturally strong creature only kept the robbers away when you weren’t going to lengths to hide it…and when there weren’t plenty out there just as strong. Maybe worse. 


     


    It was the last gasp of rain that slid over her face. It felt as if steam should, but oddly the falling drops were an even hotter contrast. Naturally her body temperature would have lowered in her hungry state, but then why did she feel so feverishly flushed? Charlie didn’t bother to ponder further, her strides dissolved into a quick lope, and then a mad sprint only tampered by the need to remain at human pace. It clawed at her restraint. She wanted to let loose and throw herself at the pavement with all the speed her legs were capable of, to feel her lungs heave and her muscles cramp. Was that even possible anymore? 


     


    The rain eased into a heavy mist, rolling fog as if escaped from the melodrama of a movie set swished around her knees and wetly caressed her back and neck. She breathed it in, tasting the imagined darkness it had drawn from crevices within the city streets. Gods she was hungry. This night was made for monsters to roam, and Charlie was ready to oblige. Her dark hair hung in humidity-loosed curls about her cheeks, nearly blank against the china-white canvas of her face and the bruised circles beneath her eyes. She resembled more a victim within this horror story, rather than the villain. Delicate, fragile…easy to break. 


     


    She stopped, nostrils flaring, keen senses leading her back a few steps and around the corner of a building. She picked up warm sweat, and the rush of an exertion-quickened pulse. Whiskey hued eyes locked onto the figure crouched beside a storm drain. He looked better fed than those she normally preyed upon, but Charlie was feeling less choosy than usual. He would have to do. Only when his unanticipated height unfolded itself to reveal the built man staring at two bedraggled balls of fur dangling from his fingers did she draw up short. His features looked dumbfounded, almost as dismayed at the innocuous creatures as he might have been to discover some loathsome monster beneath the metal grate.


     


    Charlie laughed. The mirth bubbling over in a soft spill of chuckles.


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    Most likely the same moment she scented him, he detected her.  Before he stood, before the two kittens continued to bat at him with an ill chosen fight… it was there.  Senses before the Resonance had decided to chew him up and spit him out were beyond normal, but now… it was an odd scent, yet fired over his palette every time with a zing that stiffened his spine- one he’d smelled before and was loathe to scent again.  There were few altered he’d not come in contact with, these… secretive and as close to insane as he probably was continued to elude his understanding.  A lot of bumps and bruises usually ensued, but then again there were times he stayed late specifically to see some of them.  In the span of an altered world, they were secretive and odd ones like the Weres, perhaps they had more in common than he thought.

     

    No sooner than the thoughts spilled through his head that this night couldn’t get any worse, the mitered cackle summed up everything tightening in his chest at that particular moment.

     

    [kai]If only I could put that to words,[/kai]  the warm rehearsed smile pressed dimples into his cheeks, hum of the smoked voice seeping through the grit smelling mist left behind after a hot rain on dirty streets.  [kai]…that would be about the predicament I’m in.[/kai]

     

    Sigh was soft, this was not just a passing person on the street finding him in an interesting predicament.  He was most likely food.  Or supposed to be anyway, he wasn’t sure how particularly that worked.  Other than knowing they existed when so few didn’t, there wasn’t much else they’d shared with him.  He did however…

     

    [kai]If you’re looking for something specific, why don’t you come inside and check the fridge,[/kai]  he examined the spitting little beasties one more time before turning the fractured green on her entirely.  There were things for all kinds in his kitchenette.  Sometimes he found himself peering over it himself, the draw of blood a strong one he had to fight.  He wasn’t afraid to be in close confinement with someone that could rip the heads off humans like wings on flies.  The Were wondered if she really knew exactly what SHE was smelling on him.  Top lip twitched over unusually pronounced canines even in human form.

     

    Tall stature moved toward the back door, little balls of scratching fury held to his chest, refraining from the dominance game at least until he got inside the confines of his offices.  Dimmed lights and tile floors gave way to warm colors and a fashionable waiting room. Most of his clients parked in the back and went through the same entrance he was working through now.  It was safer, especially when many of them were being watched by partners that would beat the shit out of them when they knew they were trying to get away.

     

    He left the door open, either she would come in to see what was in his fridge, or she wouldn’t.  Before then, he was going to have to find something for the little balls of annoying to rest in before things well… might get out of hand.

     

    They were placed in the sink, not even thinking for a moment that they may not like it.  He was a jag, and jags liked water… and well, jeesh- former Navy.  They were filthy and needed to be cleaned, stepping out of the kitchenette to find a box, a towel… and probably a vampire.

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    Guest Charlie Steele

    Head tilted to one side, Charlie observed the man-meant-to-be-dinner standing before her. In her blood lust she had ignored the irritating scent rolling off him before, but now that she was more rational it was niggling at her, demanding identification. Her nostrils flared slightly, breathing in the aroma of the streets, the foul smelling feline offspring, and the tall stranger who looked at her both warily and yet with some confidence as if he knew more about her than she had intended to disclose. This was not how her hunting trips typically went. Had she been just any vampire, she might have abandoned her sudden curiosity and gone in for the attack…or had she been just a bit hungrier. No, had she been less accustomed to the hunger. If nothing else, Ellis had taught her about this aspect of her rebirth.

     

    His reaction to her laughter was a wry one, and the smile that accompanied his words was forced in appearance. Not that she faulted him for it. If he had identified her, as his next words seemed to imply, then his ability to smile at all was impressive.

     

    Her eyes narrowed to slits as she focused in on her olfactory sense instead. It irked her that she couldn’t quite pinpoint what he was. He was definitely not human, and he was not Sheut…there was something akin to the dogs she’d gone to pains to avoid, but no pack musk followed his movements. He wasn’t canine, she was sure. Ivory fangs bit down on her own lip, worrying it in concentration and annoyance. Charlie really didn’t like to have her curiosity un-sated. It was that curiosity which prompted her steps to follow the not-man into his building rather than turn and seek out less difficult prey. He moved gracefully for someone his size, and there was a predatory ease to his motions, obviously accustomed to being at the top of the food chain. Her own walk likely reflected something similar as she pushed through the doorway and padded across the tile entry into the waiting room in his wake. She wasn’t afraid at being closed in with a strange man. Confident enough in her own ability to get out of any potentially dangerous situations, the woman merely focused on studying her source of fascination.

     

    She paused in the doorway to the kitchenette. Yet to make much of any sound after her brief burst of amusement outside the office, now she only watched with an artist’s intensity, absorbing every detail as if she intended to paint him from memory later. It was certainly possible. Perhaps in her focus she had unintentionally attempted to mute her own presence, but a silence cloaked her that was unnatural in its completion. It would explain why, after dumping the two bedraggled kittens into the sink he turned to exit the room. Such a trajectory would bring him into unexpectedly close quarters with the lingering vampire as she hovered in the open doorframe. Her eyes widened as his proximity intensified the scent of him, it came to her clearly and something clicked as her eyes swept from the pulsing point in his neck that she had instinctively fixated on and towards the odd green of his gaze.

     

    "You’re like them." She grinned then, head tilting towards the displeased fluff balls in the sink, humor only slightly gentling the ravenous glint to her own eyes, "Though a bit less docile, I think." A feline of some sort, but it didn’t all fit right and she was yet not entirely sure how to categorize him. She washed her upper lip in a quick flick of her tongue, interest the only thing keeping her need to eat at bay. "Do you know what I am? If you do, then are you banking on your own strength to beat me if I attack? It seems unwise to have invited me in…I really am hungry. Or maybe that’s it, you have a penchant for feeding strays?" He really did smell good, and not just because he'd be a delicious meal.

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    Calm wash was normal in the face of danger. It was almost an ethereal feeling to the man that felt close to nothing but anger and rage blistering from within his core more often than not. It was a reaction to threats, trained and used from the moment he set foot on a bus that took him to basic training.  The sensation was confidence to some, a warning to him that his senses were pinpointing to rigid attention.  It was a dangerous place for him to be.  A bit more sensitive lately because Mack was out of reach.  Maybe he was just angry and needed something to rage against.

     

    Maybe he was just broken.

     

    Still, on the outside he was unusually easy in the face of danger, noting her body language and the fact she did choose to follow him inside without hesitation.  Undaunted, knowing exactly where she had stopped and how many steps it would take to get there as he dealt with what had taken him from his routine and directly into the path of what might become a clusterfuck.  Except, he didn’t allow situations to get out of control.  Not in his workplace at least.

     

    He gauged her place in the doorway.  Seems he wasn’t getting his box, at least for the time being.  Nothing escaped the trap of his senses, not the shift of eyes toward his throat, or the interest in the spindled and fractured galaxies that were his eyes.  If people had been even paying attention half the time, they could peg him for what he was.  The world didn’t have irises like his, only altered, only animal.

     

    "You’re like them."

     

    Brows rose slightly, the slight amusement in his expression confirming what she had guessed.

     

    [kai]I like to think I smell a bit better.  But, I’ve been in the gym so that might not be a possibility.[/kai]

     

    "Though a bit less docile, I think."

     

    You have no idea… he almost said it out loud.  Something flicked in his eyes to that effect, pupils narrowing slightly.  She really had no idea.  No idea how violent and evil he could be when the right buttons were pushed.  Deadly.  Unforgiving.  Unfeeling.  Even before the Were had taken hold.

     

    "Do you know what I am? If you do, then are you banking on your own strength to beat me if I attack? It seems unwise to have invited me in…I really am hungry. Or maybe that’s it, you have a penchant for feeding strays?"

     

    [kai]I have a penchant for feeding strays,[/kai] it hummed in his chest, the calm from his core easy.  The Were feared very little, he’d been dragged through the power of the Resonance and spit out the other side.  The horrors there shadowed anything that was now present in this world to say “boo” in the middle of the night.  Blink was slow, [kai]I know what you are, I don’t just see humans here in my practice.  Altered and infected have more to need help with than the average human.[/kai]

     

    He lingered a moment, breaking the posture finally to move toward the fridge.  He knew exactly what he’d invited in.  Counselor Kai had taken over.  It was a lot safer than the alternative.  People died with the alternative.

     

    [kai]If I didn’t think it was wise, I would have killed you in the parking lot,[/kai] timbre of his voice still unruffled, a confession to everything she’d suspected about him.  A lot less docile.  A lot.  Chill drawer was pulled and something retrieved.  Bottles.  He had his connections.  Lean height reached over the fridge to a cabinet and pulled out another bottle. [kai]A trick one of my clients taught me.[/kai]

     

    In a glass, the crimson liquid was poured, topped off with something else of an amber hue.  Brandy.  One of his clients swore it made the cold of the chilled blood hit with a warmth in the gut like hot chocolate.  He had no idea.  He liked his blood hot, dying under his teeth, or so the cat curled in his core said to him on many occasions.  He'd woken after many full moons with blood in his throat.  The metaphoric killer shivered against the inside of his skin, keenly interested in the woman.  Not for nice things.  It was still deciding if it liked her, and he suppressed the beast for rational thinking.  A duality he always had to control.  Hence, his living hell.  Hers, yet to be seen.

     

    He placed it on the table next to the two bottles.  She was welcome to all of it, annoyed gaze flicking to the mewling from the sink.  They were trying to get out and sliding pitifully back down.  Maybe a wash first.  Sigh defeated by two squirming kittens, he returned to the sink to draw warm water from the tap.

     

    [kai]I don’t bank on anything,[/kai] he murmured, finally answering the last of her questions.  [kai]I just kill.  You’re still alive, must mean I like you, at least a little.  I can feed you, at the very least.  Make the night a bit easier in nights that usually probably aren't.[/kai]

     

    The little gray shit spat at him again, and he ignored it, dunking it under the warm streams to begin to get the grime off, glancing over his shoulder at her while he tortured kittens with a bath..

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    Guest Charlie Steele

    He wasn’t afraid of her, that was a first for those that could recognize what the virus had imbued her with. But then, he was something else as well. Her eyes narrowed with a brief flare of irritation at his next words.


     


    “I don’t need any help.” It hit too close to home, she’d seen therapists before, forced into those smotheringly ‘zen’ offices and pressed to talk about her parents or the perfect life she was meant to lead, anything to try and help her fit into the Steele mould. Later it was rehab and addiction counseling when her erring ways had been discovered. After that, there were no more trips home. If there was one thing that Charlie despised, it was a shrink. 


     


    Her lip curled in disgust. “I don’t need your charity either.” 


     


    She would have turned then and stalked out. She rarely ate someone after introductions were made, it really made everything so awkward, but neither did she intend to take his hand outs. She had no interest in this soft side of him that he had seen fit to expose. It was the danger she had sensed that caught her interest, and it was only the lingering breath of challenge in his next words that made her pause with her back to the room and her face towards the exit. 


     


    “Killed me, hmm? I’m not sure you would have found it so easy.” The change in his tone was a long caress to her instincts, dredging up a lick of adrenaline that shot interest through her faculties and drew a half-lidded gaze twisting across one shoulder. 


     


    He pulled open the fridge and she caught a glimpse of varied repast within…how eclectic. He selected the blood and mixed it with booze in a strange cocktail that was set out on the table like some stranger still-life to be explored. china-doll face tilted further towards his posture, nostrils flaring briefly to scent the offering from where she stood. 


     


    Curiosity pricked once more, she allowed her hand to slide along the doorframe and then back to her side as she pivoted and stepped back into the room. Her gaze closed in on the glass of sustenance, it’s viscous surface showed minuscule trembles with the near-absent vibrations of the feline’s footsteps as he returned to his pitiful charges in the sink bowl. Her fingertips rubbed lightly over the chilled surface of the cup, briefly running one around the rim to dredge up a humming note from the full vessel. She was playing with her food, but wasn’t that half the fun? With a head-tilt salute towards the man’s back, Charlie lifted the cup and took an experimental swallow.


     


    It rolled thick, and cool across her tongue, drawing her nose up in a distasteful wrinkle…but then the alcohol bit deeply and added its pleasant sort of scorching path along her throat. That was…less unpleasant…


     


    She took another sip, lips tinted with the crimson wash, still undecided if she favored this method of feeding. It didn’t take long to drain the glass and set it back down on the flat surface.


     


    “That is…less unpleasant than the usual stored supply.” She still favored it fresh and pumping down her throat from a torn artery, but then who didn’t?


     


    “You are still alive, that must mean I find you interesting” She couldn’t help the tug of a smirk at her lips. He was being self-assured, well she could fight cocky with cocky. She did find him interesting, a bundle of seeming contradictions that she itched to unroll and sift through. “Do you think you can bathe and feed me like a stray cat? I was going to kill you. Maybe I still will…you smell…” She breathed in again and exhaled a little groan of approval, “…really, fucking good.” Despite her assertions, the blood had seeped into her belly and pacified the craze, her eyes losing most of their hungry tension. Now she was just baiting him.


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    “I don’t need any help.”

     

    They never did, until they admitted they did anyway.  There was no surprise on his features, only a passive calm as he saved the rag tag critters.  Nothing rattled him unless it lit the temper that could explode without warning.  He couldn’t make anyone walk through the door, but she had, so something was there that had to be a want.  Food, most likely.  Curiosity maybe.  Attraction to indifference with her kind of infection was another.  He simply didn’t care what she was.  He had to deal with so much worse on a daily basis when he looked in the mirror.

     

    [kai]Office is closed for the day anyway.[/kai]

     

     “I don’t need your charity either.” 

     

    [kai]I don’t give to charity,[/kai]  brows shot down as the little gray spitfire took another snap at his hand, this time not a needle claw bat, but an actual bite.  A deep rumble stuck in his chest, it was the cat talking, the dark reprimands waiting for when the woman wasn’t around.

     

    He was undaunted by her seemingly annoyed hostility, he didn’t give to charity- he gave people what they needed without expectation of anything in return.  It wasn’t the first time someone had been apprehensive of his intentions.  He didn’t have time for tricks and bullshit, his intentions were to genuinely help people, and maybe make their lives a little easier to deal with in a world that hated the altered.  It was a fruitless mission, at least for some.  For him, it was baby steps to heal a complete lack of empathy for the world.  Learn empathy by trying to be empathetic?  It made sense to him at least.

     

    “Killed me, hmm? I’m not sure you would have found it so easy.”

     

    [kai]Killing is easy,[/kai]  it was his own turn to send a half lidded glance at her over the feline colored irises, leaving the sad, soaked kittens to their sink to pull something from the fridge for her.  It was more than a hint to a darker world screwed down tightly within the Were.  Unintentional, but well placed.  [kai]Self-control to not is what eludes most of us.[/kai]

     

    It was a bit cryptic, but . 

     

    He went back to his work as she took his offering despite the adamant not need for it.  Scent of blood rifled through his nostrils, tangled with alcohol.  Two scents that had such a polarizing effect on him.  Blood, was engrained in his very core.  Alcohol, well that was another matter for a long conversation.

      

    “That is…less unpleasant than the usual stored supply.”

     

    [kai]It’s a neat trick.[/kai]

     

    “You are still alive, that must mean I find you interesting”

     

    Brow cocked slightly at the two annoying furballs, the reaction clearly at her words and nothing anything the two drowned rat-looking animals had done.  He chuckled then as the kitten squirmed under his grip in the sluicing warm water, the curled big cat in his gut perking to attention with a particular alertness.  It shivered against the inside of his flesh, irritated at the challenge.  His voice never raised, even under veiled threat, the warmth of a dark sound rumbled in his chest.  It was a disarming sound as it traveled over burned vocal cords, the timbre one that could  talk to someone for hours and lick every portion of their soul.

     

    “Do you think you can bathe and feed me like a stray cat? I was going to kill you. Maybe I still will…you smell… …really, fucking good.”

     

    [kai]Baths here are only for stray kittens and after work-outs,[/kai]  the barely there warm laugh was covering for him, a well-rehearsed reaction from someone that didn’t feel anything for anyone except someone he couldn’t have.  It shimmied anger up from his gut, the prickling sensation needling across his skin as he maintained the calm façade.  Now he wanted to rip her apart.  He wanted to rip her apart for being here, for being easy to talk to, for being coy…for getting a reaction from the cat and for not being Mack.  Expression had followed suit, becoming dark, reaching under the sink and pulling several towels to dry off the pitiful cats that were now being turned into fluffballs.

     

    One was left on the counter as he did the other, it’s watchful eyes waiting no doubt to take another bite at him when it could.  Feline eyes flicked to it, seemingly busy, but attention keenly on the woman that had seemed comfortable enough to come through his doors.

     

    [kai]Kai Morgan,[/kai]  he said quietly to cut the silence, fluffing the first kitten again, a flash of teeth at it when it hissed at him amusing nobody but himself.  He put it back into the sink to keep it from wandering away, turning to open cupboard and fish out a box he knew was there from the tons of coffee they went through.  Towel was plopped in, kittens were plopped in and put on the counter, and he finally turned to lean on the counter top with arms crossed, thumbs tapping gently on his biceps.  It was starting to calm the shiver of violence under his skin.  Wouldn’t be great for headlines if he leveled his new place by ripping apart a vampire.  One death would lead to another, and disaster.  He watched her a long moment before speaking.

     

    [kai]Bottle is yours if you want it,[/kai]  voice calm, the kittens squirming in the box, the scent of blood and alcohol.  It was a recipe for disaster.  [kai]Mine isn’t good for you, no matter how it smells. I’m not good for you either, no matter how posh and disarming this place looks.[/kai]  brows drew down slightly.  [kai]Patients, friends, not a problem for me.  Other predators, takes a level of tolerance I’m not sure I have.[/kai]

     

    It was true. Territorial Were, was incredibly territorial.  If she had been a he, the  vampire would have already been torn apart.  The fact the cat responded more patiently with females, no matter what the race, was the only thing keeping the cat inside from being perched on her and ripping her to pieces... 

     

    [kai]Which one do you want to be.[/kai]

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    Guest Charlie Steele

    He was a tangled mass of contradictions, as though his leash was short and the mask thick and opaque. He held himself with the careful control of one who fears his own capabilities. It was a sin to Charlie of the worst sort. She wanted to shake him, to strip away the polite facade as if mineral spirits and blade could remove his civilities as easily as peeling paint. Underneath she suspected there was a masterpiece waiting to be revealed, something glinting at the rough corners and the tense lips, his eyes holding a world of constrained promise. To the artist in her, in cried for refinishing, a redemption from the stilted surface that marred potential. It clawed at her own control.


     


    “Killing can be easy, but I don’t see why it is something to shy away from? Is it not carving away the weak from the strong? We are doing this world a service. Why fear strength?”


     


    She honestly did not understand. Survival of the fittest was ingrained in her very being. Raised watching a dynamic duo of parents who terrorized the courtroom and soared through society as the epitome of sharks circling the bloodied waters. Her own change, and that wrought by the Nevus, had only solidified what she already understood. Strength was beauty. You had to embrace it and accept it.


     


    His voice dropped a note if possible, rumbling in an almost soothing way that emanated from his chest. Only Charlie didn’t feel soothed, she felt…handled? Nothing about his demeanor struck her as real or honest, as if the motions were only that. The why’s piled up in her mind. Cleaning up a pair of bedraggled strays, feeding the vampire who had quite apparently been intending to harm him. If he had the ability to fend her off, kill her, then whyever not? Because of some need to control his instincts? Instincts were what protected your self interests, fighting them was never advisable. Ellis had taught that to her. Cosseting the weak only enabled a parasitic society. 


     


    Interrupting the contemplation, his offered name hung like a hand suspended to shake. What did she want to be, patient, friend, predator? He wanted to push her into a neat little box, to know exactly where she would stand in his obviously structured world.


     


    Oh but he didn’t know, Charlie was not so easy to package up. Her mother could have told him that.


     


    “Charlie Steele.” Her eyes flicked to the indicated bottle of blood and away again, back to his own gaze. She wasn’t afraid of eye contact, some people found it unnerving. All the better. “I am a predator, Kai. That’s not something you can wash away. I couldn’t change even if I wanted to, and I don’t.”


     


    Her life had so many fracture lines, the damage inflicted by numerous hands including her own. Some spots in danger of crumbling…but those spiderweb patterns laced together into a tapestry that defined the defiant. It was Charlie Steele, and she could not regret herself. Nor would she change what she was. A monster that killed to survive—how could that not be beautiful? 


     


    “I don’t need someone to put me back together. I’m not afraid of what I am or what I’ve done. And maybe I’m not looking for what’s good for me, ever think of that? In fact, that sounds almost like a challenge, I never was good at turning those down.” Her lips drew back in a smile, flashing ivory fangs without any attempt at covering them. She wasn’t human, why pretend? It was relieving in fact, to be just exactly what she was, could he feel that? Everything around her screamed normalcy, the office with its nicely decorated waiting room and kitchenette…he must hide himself rigidly behind that mask or all of his patients would run screaming. They always did when they recognized her for what she was. Only Ellis knew, and he was a vampire himself. No one else until now had realized her nature and not turned tail and run (not that they’d made it far). 


     


    It was stifling to fake it, to force yourself to be something smaller and weaker. She hated it. Wouldn't he as well? Could he taste the bitterness of constriction…of all people Charlie would know what that felt like “Do you get tired of being less than you are?” 


     


    When she had lived with her family they would go to the beach on occasion. Beaches in England were not known for warm waters, and she with her brother Avery spent most of their time playing in the sand instead. He used to convince her to let him bury her, usually just up to the neck, but once he had heaped the warm weight of sand on her head. Covering her further until she realized she couldn’t move or see. The panic of that claustrophobic feeling was the same she had felt like lead in her belly most of her younger life. Trying so desperately to hide everything that wasn’t acceptable, fit into the Steel mould that was laid out.


     


    Not anymore. She wouldn’t do that for anyone. “Wouldn’t it be a relief to stop hiding? Look I’m not a good friend, I don’t have any practice at it. You don’t know anything about me, but you must see that I’d be terrible for your self-control. Still…I won’t break if you drop the act.” She didn’t know why she said it, why bother holding out an olive branch to a virtual stranger. Maybe because he’d fed her? Or maybe the aura of repressed danger called to her sick adrenaline addiction, her need to uncover what he seemed careful to keep covered. Then again, maybe the vampire was just a bit lonely in the big city. 


     


    "How would it feel to have someone in your life that doesn't fear the monster?" The question was as much for herself as for him.


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     “Killing can be easy, but I don’t see why it is something to shy away from? Is it not carving away the weak from the strong? We are doing this world a service. Why fear strength?”

     

    That was exactly why groups like the Vanguard existed, his chest suppressing a discontented growl at the thought.  Lip quirked slightly as he worked on the kittens, remaining quiet and not offering an answer.  He simply listened, learning more about her as she spoke than asking questions.  She had no idea who and what she was picking at- killing was the only thing on earth he didn’t shy away from.  He craved it, welcomed it, needed it; waking up with blood in his throat, the crack of a neck under his hands.  Even before he was ripped apart and put back together by the Nevus he’d felt the same euphoric numbness when he pulled a trigger or sliced a throat.  Muscles shivered at the thought, the cat in his gut happy with acknowledgment that was so rare from its host.  The cat killed indiscriminately, and so did he. He was pure blinding madness during the changes, and quiet business as a human.  The duality was something he had only recently come to terms with.  Killing was easy.  It was not carving the weak from the strong, it was getting people the fuck out of his way.  He feared nothing.  Absolutely nothing.

     

    Was it something she could truly understand?  Doubtful.  She seemed to run on whims and emotions, killing for enjoyment because that’s what vampires did right?  He had no whims, and struggled with emotion.  To kill and feel nothing, to have the more innocent half worse than the “monster”… that was the true thing to be feared.  To fear a Were was natural, they were a force to avoid.  As a man, he cleaned up well and could become a pillar of the community; all the while a walking and talking trigger of impenetrable rage… standing next to you on the street. 

       

    “Charlie Steele.”

     

    Her name blinked him out of his spiraling chain of thoughts.  Nod of acknowledgment was slight as he packed up the nearly dry balls of fur and leaned on the counter, crossing his arms.  Light eyes watched her without pretense, capable of such finely tuned control he could ride a fight to the brink without reaction before exploding into violence.

     

    “I am a predator, Kai. That’s not something you can wash away. I couldn’t change even if I wanted to, and I don’t.”

     

    Tongue slid over the unusually pronounced canines under his top lip.

     

    “I don’t need someone to put me back together. I’m not afraid of what I am or what I’ve done. And maybe I’m not looking for what’s good for me, ever think of that? In fact, that sounds almost like a challenge, I never was good at turning those down.”

     

    Had he offered to save her world?  He hadn’t thought so.  Blink was unaffected by the show of fangs.  He had those to match, the huge cat a vicious force that didn’t stop.  The full Were a relentless machine of death.  Even as a human they were there, almost as if he’d been destined to be something beyond mortal before he was ripped apart by the Nevus.

     

    Do you get tired of being less than you are?” 

     

    Temple ticked slightly as his jaw tightened and he sucked a tooth, form breaking from its relaxed stance at the counter to retrieve something from the cupboard.  Coffee.  He was making coffee.  He had to make coffee or else the room would be left in shambles. Find normal.  The scent of it… the taste of it brought him to a place that ceased the hairtriggering of every muscle.  It screamed ordinary, reminded him that was his goal.  Humanity.  He wasn’t human, hadn’t been capable of it even when he was.  He was trying now.  If he didn’t stop trying, the world around him would be ripped to shreds.  It wasn’t just about being what he really was, it was about chasing what he wanted himself to be.  He would NOT give up on what he never seemed to be able to grasp.

     

    “Wouldn’t it be a relief to stop hiding? Look I’m not a good friend, I don’t have any practice at it. You don’t know anything about me, but you must see that I’d be terrible for your self-control. Still…I won’t break if you drop the act.”

     

    Filter snapped into place and he filled the pot with water, watching the sluicing liquid from the tap and pondering her words.  He had a penchant for crossing paths with people that were not good for him or shouldn’t be his friend.  He let them in, let them push his buttons.  To test his control?  All he knew at the moment was that a scratching had begun on the inside of his flesh, the quiver of hackles irritated at his calm.  She was poking a stick at triggers she didn’t know he had.  It wasn’t her fault.  He needed to calm down.   

     

    "How would it feel to have someone in your life that doesn't fear the monster?"

     

    [kai]I’m not a monster.[/kai]  answer was immediately on the heels of her words, the Welsh lilt quiet as the pot clicked into place and he flipped the switch.  It was the worst thing anyone could ever say to him.  A death knell.  Drop the act.  She wanted him to drop the act.

     

    Mug.  Find a mug Kai.  Keep moving.

     

    Dropping the act assumed he was acting.  Was he acting?  Hadn’t he learned anything in the time since he decided to try and become ‘normal’?  Didn’t he feel anything?  He was sure he did.  Mack was proof of that.  Was she really so different than the dozens and dozens of others he allowed the Were blood to make him chase and conquer like a tomcat?  Or, had he forced himself to believe that?  Was he just trying to convince himself otherwise?  Rage in his gut was tight. 

     

    He slid the Navy beanie from his head and ran his fingers through the longer shorn curls before sliding it back on and pulling it down around his ears, selecting a mug from the cupboard.  Just one.  For coffee.  He needed coffee, breathing deeply when the scent finally blossomed from the machine.

     

    He still felt rage despite a safe trigger.  Tightly controlled, compressed frenzy and it was dangerously close to the surface.  He was not a monster.  He was NOT. 

     

    He waited quietly next to the coffee maker on the counter, feline eyes watching the liquid drip and ripple into the pot.

     

    [kai]There is something more to our existence than letting what we’ve become manipulate our actions at whim.  You still have to be in control of it.  It’s that control that separates people like me from the animal- the thing we all become against our will that has no control.  Despite what lives inside me I am not a monster, we are not monsters.[/kai]

     

    Voice was incredibly soft, the silence before the storm- except he was determined to stifle it.  Fingertips tapped on the counter as he waited for the brew, the mug dangling from loose fingers.

     

    [kai]There is no act, there is a conscious decision to become more than just a killer.[/kai]

     

    Despite his calm words, the instinct to shut her up was becoming debilitating; darkness fighting with the very edge of his tolerance, urging just to kill her. Kill her and be done with this whole clusterfuck.  He wasn’t just a Were, he was the worst kind.  Not infected, he was made.  Changed.  He’d had one foot inside the Nevus as it destroyed Africa.  He was a first, coupled with a man that was already an executioner.  How the hell had he controlled himself this long?

     

    The sound of coffee pouring broke his thoughts; his body knew what to do even if his mind was spinning out of his grasp.  Straight up and black.  He turned and leaned on the counter again, one hand next to his hip, the other taking a first sip as the fractured irises watched her again.  Feet crossed nonchalantly, the lean muscled form one that he knew turned heads.  She could take the stash he’d offered her and go.  He didn’t care if she drank it here even.  Hell, he didn’t even care if she wanted to use the showers or watch television until morning.  What he did care about was making sure his “act” stayed under control.

     

    [kai]Question now is, what do I do with you,[/kai] he took another sip.

     

    Kill her.  It was so strong he had to swallow it back into his gut.

     

    [kai]My first instinct was to kill you, but I don’t make a habit of ripping apart strangers, especially after I opened my place for hospitality.  What I can do is offer you anything else you need, and then lock up and head home.  These fluffy things need to be taken somewhere and unfortunately I can’t leave them here.  So home they go until morning and I can get them to a shelter.[/kai]

     

    Second drink was longer, scalding the violence that had crept back up his throat.  He sounded so innocent, even to himself, able to find humor even though she had no idea how close she was to disaster.

     

    [kai]So what’ll it be, death… dinner, some television even?[/kai] he paused, brow becoming serious for a moment as thought process reverted to her last question.  [kai]I have people in my life that don’t fear the monster, because I’m more than that.  Just because I don’t lock them in my vault with me once a month doesn’t mean they don’t know what I’m capable of.[/kai]

     

    If they SAW what he was really capable of, would they still be unafraid?  Doubtful.  The thought did more to put a crack in his resolve than anything she could have ever said.  It was something he was never going to find out.  He refused. Simply.  Refused.  No.  She HAD said it.  Was she right?

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    Guest Charlie Steele

    His calm was the smooth, glassy surface that hid a deeper turbulence. There was no one thing that Charlie could have placed a finger on that would prove what she sensed, it was something far more complex and instinctual. It was in a myriad of miniscule muscle tics and the way his voice grew ever quieter in response. The rapidity with which he swung around and began the process of making coffee was the closest she could have come to an obvious sign. 


     


    Not that making coffee was often a show of someone’s instability, but it was the way in which he turned each step into a ritual, it was self-soothing. Any recovering addict knew, it was one of the first things they taught you in rehab after they got you clean. Find a ritual or a habit and turn it into a process through which you re-center yourself. For some people it was cleaning, making coffee, doing their hair…Charlie’s had been painting. 


     


    She half crossed the empty space between them, raising a hand as if she might touch him before pulling herself back from the impulse. That was how you interact with a human, not a wild animal. Touch was powerful to creatures who rarely felt it. She didn’t know much about him, but her gut told her to treat him with extreme caution. Not a notion often at home within the willful woman’s personality. 


     


    His rapid denial of what she had labeled him drew a brow up, head tilted at an angle in her slow assessment. “Don’t be naive. We are the epitome of the word, something that goes bump in the night, large, strong, scary, ring any bells?” She was smirking again, pushing the boundaries that she shouldn’t test, most likely. “I don’t have to do anything for that to be accurate.” The ink on her arms glistened beneath the fluorescent lighting as she gestured to her stature. “Even if I don’t look it. I don’t have to rampage through the city, or kill innocents. I’m a goddamn monster that needs blood to survive, pretty sure that’s enough. What I was trying to say though, is that it's a label they use in fear, but it’s one I’ve grown to be ok with. The funny thing about monsters, is that when you stop letting fear be your knee-jerk reaction you can begin to appreciate the beauty there. Being a monster is high praise.” Her fangs flashed again in the midst of a small chuckle. 


     


    His response about control crept beneath her skin a bit, wasn’t that what people always preached at her? Control yourself.


     


    “And now you sound like my mum. Why is it that people always cling to this idea of control as being civilized, as somehow being stronger. I don’t see that. I think it’s easier to be in control, whether of a situation or a person, even of yourself. Control is comfort, because it’s a hell of a lot harder to face who you are without it.”


     


    The track marks on her arms itched. A phantom sensation, because the scars were old enough that they didn’t actually bother her anymore. It was just the reminder of what her life had been like without control. Was she kidding herself here in the self-righteous jargon she blathered? Was this just Ellis speaking through her or her own rebellion against the imposed constraints of a stiff childhood? Charlie closed her eyes, breathing in softly through her nose. The scent of feline was unmistakeable, his control must be thinner than she had realized. 


     


    The scrape of tiny claws against cardboard reminded her of the other cats within the room. Her gaze slid open again, assessing the tussling balls of fur within their coffee-crate confinement. Her silent steps approached the counter again, but this time slid to one side of the tense Were as he completed his ritual, pouring himself a steaming cup. In another life she might have begged him for some as well, but coffee no longer responded well with her system. The caffeine content hit her stomach like acid and made her shake worse than the dt’s. No, she stuck to herbal teas, didn’t hurt her artist image any either. All she needed was to burn a little incense now. Nah. The idea of filling her home with scented smoke made her nauseated. 


     


    Churlish kittens glared up at her from their imprisonment, and the braver one gave a little growl and swipe of claws at the approaching hand. Charlie pulled back a wounded digit, sucking at a drop of blood that welled up from the scratch. “Oi! ease up there, little man. Not sure what my blood would do to you, but best not find out, ok? You sure know how to pick the feral ones.” The last sentence was tossed in Kai’s direction, though she didn’t bother to look up at him. The change of focus was intended to help him regain his cool. She liked to push buttons, yeah, but she didn’t feel like bringing the building down around her ears. 


     


    Her hand moved so quickly the kitten didn’t have time to respond, and she nipped him up by the scruff. Fingers tangled around his paws, holding him still in one palm as she brought the other under his chin and rubbed with a surprising amount of gentility. The tip of her nail lightly scratched at the little guy’s throat and slid around to the nape of his neck to repeat the soothing gesture, dragging it out in slow movements down his spine to the base of the tail. It’s wiggling began to slow a little, and angry mewls calmed as she stroked its newly fluffed coat. “Try wrapping a hot water bottle in a towel and putting it inside the box, they usually snuggle right up to it like a surrogate mum.”


     


    "Question now is, what do I do with you,"


     


    Her hip leaned against the same counter as he did, returning his gaze as he pondered what to do with her. Apparently tired from its adventure, the disgruntled kitten seemed to have given up on its fight for the moment and allowed her to tuck it into the crook of one arm as she faced off the with much larger and much angrier of its kin. 


     


    “I’ll pass on the death, thanks. Too many commissions to finish up first, y’know?” The snark came easily enough. I think you already provided the dinner…and I’ve got a television at home, unless you just like my company so much.” 


     


    "I have people in my life that don’t fear the monster, because I’m more than that.”


     


    Her face echoed the slightest of winces. She rubbed the sleeping cat in her arms before gently disentangling herself and lowering it back beside its calmer sibling. “You’re lucky then, to have people who don’t just see past, but who can accept and value it as well.” He had no idea how lucky.


     


    She shrugged and tucked her fingers into the pockets of her jeans. “Should I see myself out, or do you need to lock up when I leave?”


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    • 3 weeks later...

    Lashes instinctively lowered when she crossed the space between them and made as if she would touch him. The back of his neck prickled instantly, the want to be pet tangling with the urge to bite instinct  Sometimes he could convince himself that the world was so clear, that he was stable on his feet with who he was.  Other times, it would flip back and forth like a light switch, and he truly had to clamp down on a beast that was viciously trying to rear its head.  The building around him was his, he’d put together this life, and he was reluctant to allow himself to destroy it… but even he had to admit to himself at the moment he was on shaky waters.

     

    “Don’t be naive. We are the epitome of the word, something that goes bump in the night, large, strong, scary, ring any bells?”

     

    Eyes closed for a brief moment in the flurry of his activity.  The world had no idea the depths of which it was drilled into his core.  Even before this version of clusterfuck he had of a life, he was the definition of monster.

     

    “The funny thing about monsters, is that when you stop letting fear be your knee-jerk reaction you can begin to appreciate the beauty there. Being a monster is high praise.”

     

    Brow quirked, feline eyes watching her moment before going back to his task.

     

    “And now you sound like my mum. Why is it that people always cling to this idea of control as being civilized, as somehow being stronger. I don’t see that. I think it’s easier to be in control, whether of a situation or a person, even of yourself. Control is comfort, because it’s a hell of a lot harder to face who you are without it.”

     

    [kai]I was in control before the world made me this.  Controlling myself now is all I have. It’s all that keeps the world safe.[/kai]  He savored the heat on the mug of his coffee.  [kai]Or a bloody lot of people would die.[/kai]

     

    It was strange talking about it, he never did. He never spoke with anyone about himself, especially not to Mack or Mrs. Kolcheck.  He tried desperately to make sure they only knew the side of him that was in complete control.  Worn  like a badge of honor that a Were could be so normal and so horrible at the same time.  It was an odd feeling.  His own nostrils flared slightly at her proximity, gathering information as she gathered hers.  He wondered often what patients that weren’t human could sense from him when they sat in his chairs.  What could they feel from him?  What could they scent from him?  Did he smell like a monster... thoughts interrupted by the scent of blood that billowed into the room.

      

    “Oi! ease up there, little man. Not sure what my blood would do to you, but best not find out, ok? You sure know how to pick the feral ones.”

     

    The corners of his lips pressed amused cheeks into brief dimples as he took another drink of coffee, watching the quirky display of affection with the little feline mutts.

     

    “Try wrapping a hot water bottle in a towel and putting it inside the box, they usually snuggle right up to it like a surrogate mum.”

     

    Surrogate mum?  He wasn’t supposed to have them for long, brows coming down for a moment at the little ball of fur and he vocally pondered what to do with her.  His beast was stowed, for the moment, his rituals incredibly effective from years and years of practice. The warmth of the cup to cut through the drizzle still on his shirt from the dreary darkness outside, the smell of it allowing the scent of a vampire to tangle with a scent he knew calmed him.

     

    Photographer?  Artist?  Seems he wasn’t the only “monster” that was trying to be something more than that.

     

     “You’re lucky then, to have people who don’t just see past, but who can accept and value it as well.”

     

    Intensely focused eyes flicked to her.  Did they?  There was no value in what he was, at least in his eyes.  He was dangerous, deadly, and without mercy… he’d been that before the world ended.  Were those around him that appreciated his company just appreciating the controlled personality he spent so much time keeping in place?  What in the hell would they do if they really knew what he was capable of, or what he had done?  The thought stung his chest.  They’d leave, he was certain.  Eyes cast to the floor a moment in a quiet gathering of thoughts, or perhaps a surrender of point.

     

    [kai]Me, lucky?  So are you, you have me, at least.[/kai] it was the truth, and it was an odd one to hear himself say every time he said it.  [kai]If I count even in the slightest as a person.[/kai]

     

    The quirked smile lit up his eyes before he took a drink, really unsure of what he was doing.  Admitting he was a frothing killer?  Still attempting to take in another stray?

     

    “Should I see myself out, or do you need to lock up when I leave?”

     

    [kai]I can see you out, I’m not that much of a Were heathen,[/kai] cup was finished, rinsed out in the sink and set into the strainer.  He turned off the coffee pot and left everything intact.  It would continue to bleed scent through the building until morning, which he would find calming.  [kai]Or give you a ride anywhere you need to go.  I’m not someone that has a hot water bottle on hand, so I have a bit of errands to run it seems anyway.[/kai]

     

    He stepped over and peered into the box, picking it up to tuck under his arm and retrieve his keys.  He wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing?  Attracted to the prospect of not having to hide?  It was stark realization.  He didn’t have to worry, didn’t have to watch where he stepped. Maybe it was because he couldn’t hide from her.  He could hide from the world, slip through a crowd of people that weren’t wiser of what was walking amongst them.  With his clients, they looked to him for an example of control.  With her? 

     

    It was so strange.

     

    He waited at the door to the breakroom to see her out, brain tangling with what exactly he was feeling about the tattooed vampire.  He might have been a Were monster, but he was at least a gentleman.

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