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[minaharker10_2]

(Continuing from here)

*Mina, as she often does, is sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea. Her hands are shaking, though, and she hasn't yet taken a sip of the tea. There's a shawl wrapped around her shoulders but, if one looks, they can see the bite marks on her neck.

She's wearing a crucifix, of course. She's not an idiot.*

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[fitzroyal]

Henry comes in the back door, rubbing one hand over his face and wincing. The blisters aren't bad, but they're already starting to be painful, and he's annoyed, but his eyes are clean, clear hazel and his mind isn't clouded. His nostrils flare as he closes the door behind him and his head snaps around to Mina.

Oh, excellent. He almost laughs, at the ridiculousness of this evening so far.

[minaharker10_2]

*She turns suddenly as she hears the door close, almost startled. Upon seeing who it is, though, she carefully schools her face to the closest thing to impassivity she can manage* Get out. *Yes, she might be deliberately echoing his words*

[fitzroyal]

He bows, gracefully. "Mina Harker." Tiredly. And ignoring her command.

[minaharker10_2]

*At the bow she laughs, in a bitter sort of way he probably thought he'd never hear from her.* Mr. Fitzroy. *Last name terms again, on her part.*

[Typist: I think Henry's told her his full name, and that one, but I'm not positive.]

[fitzroyal]

[T: You're right, I think he has.]

His eyes flicker and he takes a few more steps inside, his eyes closing off. "What shall I call you, then? Lady Harker?" And there's bitterness in his voice, as well.

[minaharker10_2]

*Still bitter, in some odd mockery of Victorian politeness* Oh, you do mistake me, sir, that title is not mine to take.

[fitzroyal]

"It hardly matters, does it?" He crosses the kitchen to the sink and gets a glass of water, sips a bit of it with a grimace, the slight burns on his face likely visible to Mina now.

"If it helps, which it doesn't, you have my apologies." Still bitterly.

[minaharker10_2]

*She wonders at the bruises, but doesn't ask. Half musing* I think that makes it worse, in fact. It means that there's a hypocrisy to you that he didn't have. *She doesn't bother naming the Count.*

[fitzroyal]

He grits his teeth to keep himself from snarling. "It has nothing to do with hypocrisy. I let you live, didn't I?"

That's not meant to be snapped, but it comes out that way. He takes a long deep breath and another gulp of water, hand clamping on the counter.

"I doubt you understand nearly so much as you think you do."

[minaharker10_2]

[Typist: Burns, not bruises, of course. Ignore that]

*she doesn't raise her voice, not yet, but you could cut the sarcasm and bitterness with a knife.* Oh, such a blessing! Should I thank you on my knees for it?

*she pauses, and takes a breath - as he did, in fact - but it does not calm her, and, as she continues to speak, her voice rises in pitch and volume, slowly* Do I not? I know your little all consuming hunger, I have lain awake at nights in bed beside my husband, with him whispering in my ear that all I needed to do was turn over and sink my teeth in, I wouldn't even wake him up, just a little bite, just a little thing to seal my damnation. And, oh, oh, dear god, forgive me, I wanted to, all my body rebelling in me against it, but I didn't. And I made my husband swear that if I was to become one of you, he would kill me with his own hands, and I imagined that death a thousand times because that was the price I was willing to pay to not have to do that to anyone.

[fitzroyal]

Henry wheels around and snarls at her, savagely. "So you blame me for what he did to you? There is nothing I can do about that. Likely he is not even as like to me as you are to me. I could have killed you easily. If I had cared to, if I had been wise I would have, because you know my face, and you know how you could kill me. But I chose not to, and please I beg of you do not make me regret it."

His chest rises and falls rapidly, eyes blazing.

[minaharker10_2]

*She starts back in sudden fear at his blazing eyes and snarls. Her tea spills a little, and she busies herself with fishing out a handkerchief and cleaning it up to cover her fear. When she has calmed more, she says, quietly* I will make you no promises, not when they could come between me and the protection of those I care about. *pause* Then, if you'd like to kill me now, and rectify your mistake, do so. I might even take off my crucifix for you.

[fitzroyal]

He snorts. "Exactly what I meant." The chain snaps as he tugs at it and slides his own across the counter to her. "I'm Catholic, and always have been."

He takes another deep breath, reining back his anger. "I didn't want to kill you then and I don't now."

[minaharker10_2]

*She shudders, closing her eyes briefly. There's her and Jonathan's protection gone. Harsh, interrogative* Why? Why does it matter?

[fitzroyal]

He takes a step back, going to look out the window, coldly. "I liked you. And it wasn't - I've read your story, I told you that. It bothered me the first time and it still does."

[minaharker10_2]

*she pauses for a moment and then continues* You didn't need to bite me at all, then. Surely there are enough people in this place who would give you their blood willingly.