Day 28; Bus 3
There was, Naomi decided, some sort of cosmic irony in all of this. Not that she was trapped in a deranged and possibly other-worldly asylum with a man she'd idolized for years and a boy who was being investigated for - among other things - the murder of her fiance. No, at this point, those were perfectly normal occurrences. Rather it was the
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Blood scent had a way of lingering, and normally that was pleasant. Not so now. He couldn’t stand his own scent everywhere, absolutely everywhere.
He took the proffered clothes without verbal complaint, although it was hard to mistake his expression for anything but utmost loathing. It was near thing that his upper lip hadn’t curled and revealed his fangs at the nearest victim. Cheap things were one thing… but he looked like a grungy teenaged boy. Teenaged vampire he was, but he was also one of the elite, and ridiculous Western band t-shirts (AC/DC, of an 80s variety) and blue jeans and sneakers were the height of poor fashion. It was despicable. So far removed from his usual image. But that was nothing ( ... )
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Yes, in her time, the Civil War had come and gone a few centuries prior. That was just a stone's throw away for a Noah.
She slackened her hold on his arm ever so slightly. "But there's no war here, is there? Except at night, and that's a lot different. I... don't have my powers," she admitted a little more than sadly, "and you don't really either. I bet I could even touch your left arm without it hurting me now ( ... )
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