Jermey cut the igniton off and opted to lean over to the passenger side to 'tidy up' a bit before going up to the front door to retrieve his date. His squad car partner had left behind a small reserve of gum wrappers, receipts, and a single lone fastfood bag from Pal's fish fry stuffed in every manner of crack or crevice he could find. It somewhat irked the rookie cop, seeing as he himself was usually quite a tidy individual.
He turned the key over again, and glanced over his shoulder to back out of her driveway, arm brushing against hers as he folded it over the back of his seat. "I thought we might head over to this little restraunt I had heard was pretty good, the Ragin' Cajun? You don't have a problem with Cajin' food do you?" He asked, suddenly worried he had made some horrible decision. His gaze left the rearwindow and found her face, eyes frantically searching for any sign of discontent. Finding none, he willed his muscles to relax, letting his stare fall to the window again though his eyes seemed to protest leaving her figure. His brain kept producing ridiculous thoughts and descriptions of how she appeared to him that it normally never would have given. Ariana, the delicate, willowy goddess with flowing tresses that shimmered onyx like the feathers of a raven and sparkling cerulean orbs that shone like the ocean and radiated with femininity. What was he, a poet all of a sudden?
It wasn't too much longer, a short ten minute car ride filled with pleasent idle chatter, before Jeremy found himself parking the police vehicle in the closest availble slot just out front of the dining establishment. The smell of Creole, inexpensive liquor, stove grease, and wood varnish, among other pleasant odours, filled the air and was easily smelt event through the closed doors of the car.
Nik's eyes raised themselves from some empty spot on the carpet that he had had his stare locked on previously to meet hers. There was a hunger in his gaze, and behind that hunger, a savagery that was barely contained. It was like something from a bygone age, a time when disputes were settled with spilled blood and torn flesh. The vampire rose with vison-blurring speed and tossed the chair that he had been resting in only moments ago across the room, the piece of furniture sailing through the air until it collided with the opposite wall, fragments of wood and velvet upolstry cascading down, littering the crimson carpet.
He had wanted so badly for her to be excited at the prospect of family, as he had been. He had wanted to give her the world on a silver platter and dazzle her with things life had probably never afforded her. He had wanted a sister or a daughter, a companion and she couldn;t have fled fast enough. Perhaps he had been wrong to open up again, what good was a heart if it did not beat?