Going down to the devil [going down to ninety degrees]
[Anger Management]
I had begun to hate Sundays. They used to be such wonderful days of the week, a day where I could relax and unwind from a stressful week. I could play and not be interrupted.
And then Sawyer decided she didn't want to see her mother and father on Sundays and stayed at school. And then Charlotte decided to seek refuge with me because as she so lovingly, and frequently, told me, it was entirely my fault we were in this situation in the first place.
They were both infuriating in their own special ways and I'd begun to rely on every ounce of my self-control not to snap at them. My supply was dwindling at an alarming rate, decreasing exponentially with every coo from Charlotte's lips and every kiss from Sawyer's.
I was going insane.
Sawyer's hand was firmly in mine as I set the pace down the street. She was practically jogging to keep up and it was only when she stumbled and I had to grab her to keep her from flying into traffic that I stopped, one arm around her waist and the other still gripping her hand, probably painfully so.
I let go of her fingers and brushed her hair off of her face. I was worried and rightfully so, I could have seriously hurt her in my haste and I nearly had. "Sawyer, are you alright?"
Her lips turned down in a frown, tinted chapstick making them red instead of the soft pink I knew by heart. "Have you ever heard of a car?" She was snappish, which meant she was absolutely fine so I took off again -- slower this time, with my arm still snuggly around her waist. She didn't seem to mind.
"I have actually," I told her. "Charlotte is behind the wheel of mine as we speak so I apologize for my haste. If she dents it, I'll be forced to kill her and that would surely be a tragedy." She made a face like it wouldn't be too bad, to tell the truth.
"Why don't we just wait for Charlotte to come to--"
I interrupted her before she could finish her moronic train of thought. "Because that would involve her driving for far longer than is necessary." If I were prone to heart attacks, I would have had seven by now. It was early though; there was still hope for a premature death before lunch.
She kept glaring at me, a glare for every wheeze. "I have a cramp," she finally moaned, stopping and rooting herself in her spot. "Get a taxi, right now, or I'm going to cry."
Her lip quivered in a convincing pout and when I let go of her to flag down a taxi she clutched her side, kneading her fingers into her ribs and frowning. I heard her mutter something about my intelligence, or lack there of, but I ignored her to acquire the taxi she so desperately needed.
"Perhaps," I told her as I held open the offensive yellow door for her, "if you actually exercised more often you wouldn't have a cramp."
A lesser man would have died at the look she gave me. I laughed, folding in beside her and wrapping my arm around her shoulders. She fought for less than a second before giving up and practically climbing into my lap.
I patted her on the head lightly and she glared at me again. "Good kitten," I whispered before turning my attention to the driver. "Bliss, please."
He stared. "That's forty miles."
Sawyer started to say something, but I closed my hand over her mouth for the moment. "I'm well aware of the distance, sir, please take us there." As if to show good faith, I reached into my wallet and drew out a handful of bills, leaning over the seat to hand them to the driver. He seemed appeased because he started driving.
As I settled back I gave Sawyer a pointed look, hoping she would realize she should keep her voice down. I prayed she would keep her voice down. Thankfully, she did, chastising me in an angry whisper. "Bliss?! We were going to walk for forty miles?!"
"No. We were going to walk out of town and then I was going to carry you."
She paused to consider. "What's in Bliss anyway? It's like Ghost Town de jour. The only thing there is the hospital." I gave her a moment to connect the dots. "Ew, oh my God are you going to eat dead people? That's gross, Finn, necromancy went out with Elvis."
"First of all, no. Secondly, necromancy and necrophilia are two entirely different things and hypocritical coming out of you mouth since your greatest desire it seems is to get me into bed with you."
"Willingly," she corrected.
"Get me into bed with you willingly."
"Pretty much my goal in life. Bang Count Chocula. It'll be my crowning achievement." She beamed at me and everything went blurry. I had to concentrate very hard not to agree to everything she was saying.
I murmured something like agreement and we fell silent. She tossed her legs over my lap and snuggled against me, pressing her face against my chest. She slept for the majority of the trip while I stared out the window and watched the scenery pass. It would have been much more enjoyable if we were in France and the cab driver didn't insist on speaking to me about the doll in my lap.
If it wasn't common knowledge then, it certainly should be noted that no one is allowed to call Sawyer a doll.
I was busily contemplating the state of Sawyer's hair, I'm sure it had some Medusa-like qualities that lured me in -- There was certainly no other reason that she should have such a pull over me. The pouting never worked -- when the driver whistled low under his breath.
"Dayum," he drawled, pulling the word out into more syllables than necessary. "That is one fine--"
I didn't let him differentiate between the car and my sister as I handed him the remainder of the money and an ample tip, before scooping Sawyer into my arms and kicking the door shut behind me. Charlotte made a face at the sleeping girl I was holding.
It wasn't that she didn't like Sawyer; it was that she knew she would be babysitting while I was in the hospital and Sawyer was not the type of girl to let someone play with her hair, though I assured Charlotte that if she asked nicely, she might reconsider.
I deposited Sawyer in the passenger seat before crossing the hood. "Charlotte, please tell me that is not a dent but just a trick of the light."
"It's neither," she trilled bouncing into my arms and wrapping her frail arms around my waist. "It's supposed to be like that silly, it says so on the certificate of authenticity. You're the one what wanted this particular one."
She was not helping, but I rested my head atop hers and laughed at her exuberance. "All right, Charlotte, you're under no responsibility for my car's imperfections." She purred a laugh and a thank you against my chest and hugged herself tighter to me.
There really was nothing wrong with the car, a black BMW M6 convertible capable of reaching speeds that were almost considered illegal on the Autobahn. Naturally I fell in love with it the moment I saw her, Charlotte had to restrain me from paying cash for it. That much clean money was sure to raise suspicion and we were doing so well lately.
She probably would have cried.
It took some effort to extract myself from her grip, for someone so fragile and delicate she was painfully strong, but eventually I shooed her back to the car to watch Sawyer so I could eat. I could feel her frowning at my back as I walked towards the hospital. I didn't eat enough, not really, so occasionally when I became too sick to hunt I was forced to the hospital. We had a friend there who didn't mind if we splurged on his O negative. He said it meant less paperwork for him if we accidentally killed a human.
I never fought him on the issue, I was grateful to be in his debt.
Everything was waiting when I arrived, slipping past the nurse's station with a curt hello before making my way to Anders' office. We exchanged pleasantries, I asked about his wife and three daughters, he asked about Charlotte, he pestered me about my health and general well being and then he excused himself so I could eat. He very rarely stayed behind for small talk during dinner and I managed to slip out without saying good-bye.
Charlotte was sprawled across the backseat when I returned, bare feet dangling over the side of the car. "She's about to wake up," she said with a pout. She hadn't had time to play. How horrible for her. I threw the remaining packet of blood at her and her pout morphed into a brilliant smile that put the sun to shame. She drank it like a juice box, wide eyes blinking at me from over her makeshift straw.
I settled into the driver's seat and shook Sawyer lightly. "Wake up."
She hissed at me. "Shut up, Fang." While her eyes remained steadfastly shut, she pressed her feet against the door and pushed herself across the seat until her head was resting on my thigh, fingers clinging to my leg. She was going to make this impossible for me. Charlotte giggled from the backseat and I resisted mimicking Sawyer.
Again the drive was made in relative silence, five times faster and a hundred times less safe, but still silent. Sawyer didn't stir until after I dropped Charlotte off at my room. Her fingers pressed into my thigh as I put the car back into gear.
"Do you have a death wish?" I asked, taking my hand off of the shift to disentangle her hands from my leg.
She nodded slowly and I was forced to pull off the road for fear I would drive into a tree distracted like that. My reflexes were impeccable, but she was a distraction. She pressed her thumb against the button to pull up the convertible top and sat up, slowly draping her legs across my lap again and resting her head on my shoulder. "I can't drive like this, Sawyer."
She nodded again, turning the key in the ignition so the car fluttered off gracefully. "I'm trying to achieve my life goal here, give me a break, huh?"
I didn't answer as I moved her legs off of my lap and started the car again, letting the sound of the engine rumbling to life soak into my bones. The drive to her dorm was made in silence, again.
I only had so much self-control, after all, and I hated Sundays.
I had begun to hate Sundays. They used to be such wonderful days of the week, a day where I could relax and unwind from a stressful week. I could play and not be interrupted.
And then Sawyer decided she didn't want to see her mother and father on Sundays and stayed at school. And then Charlotte decided to seek refuge with me because as she so lovingly, and frequently, told me, it was entirely my fault we were in this situation in the first place.
They were both infuriating in their own special ways and I'd begun to rely on every ounce of my self-control not to snap at them. My supply was dwindling at an alarming rate, decreasing exponentially with every coo from Charlotte's lips and every kiss from Sawyer's.
I was going insane.
Sawyer's hand was firmly in mine as I set the pace down the street. She was practically jogging to keep up and it was only when she stumbled and I had to grab her to keep her from flying into traffic that I stopped, one arm around her waist and the other still gripping her hand, probably painfully so.
I let go of her fingers and brushed her hair off of her face. I was worried and rightfully so, I could have seriously hurt her in my haste and I nearly had. "Sawyer, are you alright?"
Her lips turned down in a frown, tinted chapstick making them red instead of the soft pink I knew by heart. "Have you ever heard of a car?" She was snappish, which meant she was absolutely fine so I took off again -- slower this time, with my arm still snuggly around her waist. She didn't seem to mind.
"I have actually," I told her. "Charlotte is behind the wheel of mine as we speak so I apologize for my haste. If she dents it, I'll be forced to kill her and that would surely be a tragedy." She made a face like it wouldn't be too bad, to tell the truth.
"Why don't we just wait for Charlotte to come to--"
I interrupted her before she could finish her moronic train of thought. "Because that would involve her driving for far longer than is necessary." If I were prone to heart attacks, I would have had seven by now. It was early though; there was still hope for a premature death before lunch.
She kept glaring at me, a glare for every wheeze. "I have a cramp," she finally moaned, stopping and rooting herself in her spot. "Get a taxi, right now, or I'm going to cry."
Her lip quivered in a convincing pout and when I let go of her to flag down a taxi she clutched her side, kneading her fingers into her ribs and frowning. I heard her mutter something about my intelligence, or lack there of, but I ignored her to acquire the taxi she so desperately needed.
"Perhaps," I told her as I held open the offensive yellow door for her, "if you actually exercised more often you wouldn't have a cramp."
A lesser man would have died at the look she gave me. I laughed, folding in beside her and wrapping my arm around her shoulders. She fought for less than a second before giving up and practically climbing into my lap.
I patted her on the head lightly and she glared at me again. "Good kitten," I whispered before turning my attention to the driver. "Bliss, please."
He stared. "That's forty miles."
Sawyer started to say something, but I closed my hand over her mouth for the moment. "I'm well aware of the distance, sir, please take us there." As if to show good faith, I reached into my wallet and drew out a handful of bills, leaning over the seat to hand them to the driver. He seemed appeased because he started driving.
As I settled back I gave Sawyer a pointed look, hoping she would realize she should keep her voice down. I prayed she would keep her voice down. Thankfully, she did, chastising me in an angry whisper. "Bliss?! We were going to walk for forty miles?!"
"No. We were going to walk out of town and then I was going to carry you."
She paused to consider. "What's in Bliss anyway? It's like Ghost Town de jour. The only thing there is the hospital." I gave her a moment to connect the dots. "Ew, oh my God are you going to eat dead people? That's gross, Finn, necromancy went out with Elvis."
"First of all, no. Secondly, necromancy and necrophilia are two entirely different things and hypocritical coming out of you mouth since your greatest desire it seems is to get me into bed with you."
"Willingly," she corrected.
"Get me into bed with you willingly."
"Pretty much my goal in life. Bang Count Chocula. It'll be my crowning achievement." She beamed at me and everything went blurry. I had to concentrate very hard not to agree to everything she was saying.
I murmured something like agreement and we fell silent. She tossed her legs over my lap and snuggled against me, pressing her face against my chest. She slept for the majority of the trip while I stared out the window and watched the scenery pass. It would have been much more enjoyable if we were in France and the cab driver didn't insist on speaking to me about the doll in my lap.
If it wasn't common knowledge then, it certainly should be noted that no one is allowed to call Sawyer a doll.
I was busily contemplating the state of Sawyer's hair, I'm sure it had some Medusa-like qualities that lured me in -- There was certainly no other reason that she should have such a pull over me. The pouting never worked -- when the driver whistled low under his breath.
"Dayum," he drawled, pulling the word out into more syllables than necessary. "That is one fine--"
I didn't let him differentiate between the car and my sister as I handed him the remainder of the money and an ample tip, before scooping Sawyer into my arms and kicking the door shut behind me. Charlotte made a face at the sleeping girl I was holding.
It wasn't that she didn't like Sawyer; it was that she knew she would be babysitting while I was in the hospital and Sawyer was not the type of girl to let someone play with her hair, though I assured Charlotte that if she asked nicely, she might reconsider.
I deposited Sawyer in the passenger seat before crossing the hood. "Charlotte, please tell me that is not a dent but just a trick of the light."
"It's neither," she trilled bouncing into my arms and wrapping her frail arms around my waist. "It's supposed to be like that silly, it says so on the certificate of authenticity. You're the one what wanted this particular one."
She was not helping, but I rested my head atop hers and laughed at her exuberance. "All right, Charlotte, you're under no responsibility for my car's imperfections." She purred a laugh and a thank you against my chest and hugged herself tighter to me.
There really was nothing wrong with the car, a black BMW M6 convertible capable of reaching speeds that were almost considered illegal on the Autobahn. Naturally I fell in love with it the moment I saw her, Charlotte had to restrain me from paying cash for it. That much clean money was sure to raise suspicion and we were doing so well lately.
She probably would have cried.
It took some effort to extract myself from her grip, for someone so fragile and delicate she was painfully strong, but eventually I shooed her back to the car to watch Sawyer so I could eat. I could feel her frowning at my back as I walked towards the hospital. I didn't eat enough, not really, so occasionally when I became too sick to hunt I was forced to the hospital. We had a friend there who didn't mind if we splurged on his O negative. He said it meant less paperwork for him if we accidentally killed a human.
I never fought him on the issue, I was grateful to be in his debt.
Everything was waiting when I arrived, slipping past the nurse's station with a curt hello before making my way to Anders' office. We exchanged pleasantries, I asked about his wife and three daughters, he asked about Charlotte, he pestered me about my health and general well being and then he excused himself so I could eat. He very rarely stayed behind for small talk during dinner and I managed to slip out without saying good-bye.
Charlotte was sprawled across the backseat when I returned, bare feet dangling over the side of the car. "She's about to wake up," she said with a pout. She hadn't had time to play. How horrible for her. I threw the remaining packet of blood at her and her pout morphed into a brilliant smile that put the sun to shame. She drank it like a juice box, wide eyes blinking at me from over her makeshift straw.
I settled into the driver's seat and shook Sawyer lightly. "Wake up."
She hissed at me. "Shut up, Fang." While her eyes remained steadfastly shut, she pressed her feet against the door and pushed herself across the seat until her head was resting on my thigh, fingers clinging to my leg. She was going to make this impossible for me. Charlotte giggled from the backseat and I resisted mimicking Sawyer.
Again the drive was made in relative silence, five times faster and a hundred times less safe, but still silent. Sawyer didn't stir until after I dropped Charlotte off at my room. Her fingers pressed into my thigh as I put the car back into gear.
"Do you have a death wish?" I asked, taking my hand off of the shift to disentangle her hands from my leg.
She nodded slowly and I was forced to pull off the road for fear I would drive into a tree distracted like that. My reflexes were impeccable, but she was a distraction. She pressed her thumb against the button to pull up the convertible top and sat up, slowly draping her legs across my lap again and resting her head on my shoulder. "I can't drive like this, Sawyer."
She nodded again, turning the key in the ignition so the car fluttered off gracefully. "I'm trying to achieve my life goal here, give me a break, huh?"
I didn't answer as I moved her legs off of my lap and started the car again, letting the sound of the engine rumbling to life soak into my bones. The drive to her dorm was made in silence, again.
I only had so much self-control, after all, and I hated Sundays.