(Untitled)

[slayer_fray]

Deaths don't worry Mel; they happen and it sucks, but it is just part of her existence. Asking questions while the thinkers get on with their thinking is also not a problem

One thing is a problem; the line in the post-mortem report that says Exsanguination from a wound to the neck. Peri/post-mortem. See me for details if necessary. - and the

Comments

[dreamer_fray]

Hook, line and sinker.

Er, by which I mean, the family member in question wanders down from upstairs, and is currently leaning at the bar a little way down, recieving his own healthy breakfast of blood-in-a-mug.

Without looking up, he waves in Mel's direction.

[slayer_fray]

Without looking up, Mel's hand darts out and grabs the wrist of the waving hand.

Grabs it firm.

"Morning."

[dreamer_fray]

Harth smiles winsomely.

Also slightly bloodily.

"Why Mel," he says. "I missed you too."

[slayer_fray]

"You know where I am if you need me."

Not that he's invited into their apartment. Nor is he able to follow her to Haddyn. Not the point.

The wrist-grabbing was a show of strength. Mel might be his sister and a pushover, but she's still the Slayer. She lets go after five seconds and finishes her coffee.

"You're not stupid, Harth."

She could be still talking about the same thing. She could be talkig something else.

[dreamer_fray]

(Oh, but it was close.)

"Glad y'agree," Harth says brightly, and wipes his mouth. Blood-smears, while a worthwhile attempt at grossing out siblings, are sticky.

[slayer_fray]

So is maple syrup, which Mel wipes off her own mouth in an unconscious exact mirror of her twin.

"Nice set up you've got, too. You know I keep coming here, know you can see me everyday. 'Ve already killed you, so that's out of the way. And you annoy me in bar all the time. Pretty much got my attention and a life of your own."

[dreamer_fray]

Harth has to stop himself twitching. Some life.

"Right," he says sourly. "All I gotta do is settle down and have baby lurks o'my very own, and I'm set."

[slayer_fray]

"Could be worse," Mel remarks.

It could be. What happens when a lurk that's been staked already, living dead in Milliways, is staked again? Or beheaded, or exposed to sunlight, or any of the other wonderful things at Mel's disposal here? And there's always Baby.

Mel thinks she lets Harth get away with a lot, and he should rutting well be grateful.

Perhaps to illustrate this point, having finished her food, she hops up to sit on the bar, and her closed purple switchblade finds its way into her hands.

Perhaps to illustrate a point, perhaps just coincidentally. She passes it over her fingers absently, giving her restlessess something to occupy itself.

[dreamer_fray]

Harth, personally, thinks he's been the soul of virtue. You know, mostly.

Considering.

"Don't doubt it," he agrees.

[slayer_fray]

"So you'd be a idiot to provoke," Mel remarks, as the purple knife flashes from finger to finger, to the other hand and back again. Occasionally the blade flicks out from the handle, catching the light before returning to its place. "T'give me a reason to make it worse.

"And you're not an idiot, are ya?"

[dreamer_fray]

"Right," Harth says sweetly.

Ooo. Shiny.

Slurp.

[slayer_fray]

"Right," Mel agrees as the switchblade moves faster.

"Anything you want to add to what you told Alanna?"

[dreamer_fray]

"Nope."

:D

[slayer_fray]

"Good."

Mel grins brightly.

"Cause if you were keeping anything from me, you can bet I'd get it outa you."

Flick-flick-flick-toss goes the kife.

[dreamer_fray]

"Oh, I know."

That grin? Just went wrong.

[slayer_fray]

It did.

Mel frowns at the grin, more than a little suspicious of it.

Unfortunately this happens just as her switchblade has been thrown idly into the air, and it distracts her from the catch.

Of the open knife.

It turns a couple of times in the air and falls towards her.