Snippet #1742019

As Rebecca explained the reason for the meeting to Garrison, he kept a straight, perfect poker face. On the inside, he was boiling with rage at the thought of hunters kidnapping vampires. It was no secret that he thought they were the scum of the earth, trying to kill those who were obviously stronger than them. The part that he hated the most is that they succeeded sometimes. As he thought back to the Giordano incident, he was reminded of perhaps the only time he had not seen eye to eye with Rebecca's views. Though he never voiced it aloud, working with hunters made his skin crawl and he saw dhampire as utter abominations to the world. The worst part was that the only successful one that had been created was now off was gone, completely off the face of the face of the world. So much time, effort, and resources had been wasted on what he thought was a foolhardy venture to begin with. Garrison knew it wasn't healthy to keep his dislike of some of the things Rebecca had done in the past bottled up inside of him. How was he any better than those who ruled under Elizabeth and were too scared of the consequences of speaking out against her? The only thing that stopped him from being pushed over the ledge and spilling everything he disagreed with her about was that he knew the both of them needed this healthy relationship to keep going. Besides, the disagreements were by far outweighed by what he agreed on her with.

All negative thoughts were pushed out of Garrison's mind as Rebecca brought up going to the nightclub the next night. When she winked, a sly smile crossed his face and he felt the old familiar butterflies in his chest. She never ceased to amaze him. Jumping out of his seat, he followed close behind her as she walked out of the room. "Keep that promise and I'll clean my room," he said, chuckling merrily at the thought. His room was due for a good clean-up of blood packets from late noon snacking, broken gear from overuse of his weapons, and shredded, bloody clothes from his duty as a bodyguard. He knew that if she kept her promise, he'd regret it the second they left the club. Garrison hated going out of his way just to clean a room he barely occupies.

He reached inside the right pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a small ring of keys with almost a dozen different keys of various shapes and sizes. "Promises aside, how are we getting there tonight?" he asked as he began swinging the ring around on the end of his finger. Garrison had quite a nasty streak to show for the little bunch of keys that he held. While one was just a house key and it's spare, most of them were car keys and almost none of them were gained by what most would consider legal means. Most of them were sports cars that he'd driven right off the lot without even seeing a salesman. A few were stolen and hotwired on nights that felt particularly boring. Three of them were from would be assassins that didn't need them any longer. For such a simple little circle of metal, it certainly had a rather long nasty streak.