Snippet #909205

"I'm not going to tell you what you want."

That made sense. How the hell was she supposed to know what the weird vampire wanted, anyway? Fangs? A birthday present?

Cloasse fell silent after her short statement, eyes settled on the counter that Fletcher had now vacated. Imagine something as ordinary as a counter holding so many memories. The first time the two had met, she'd clambered onto the bar top in order to draw on Fletcher's face. The first time she'd gotten well and truly drunk, the fangless wonder had settled her on top of it, and she'd been ever so pleased because it had meant he thought she was pretty.

It probably hadn't, though. He'd most likely been doing it just to keep her happy and not sobbing on him in order to save staining his favourite t-shirt or something equally egotistical and heartless.

"If you're just going to clean up, can I go? There's nothing else to say, I already told you about the uneventful shopping trip."

Surely he'd say she could go now. There couldn't possibly be anything else he could magic up that'd hold much of her interest when she was struggling to hold in her emotions.

If he wanted time to himself, Cloasse was more than happy to provide it. Especially when it meant that she could leave, because she assumed that it would make her feel better...