They would be okay. Jackson believed that. He knew about Annabelle now. He knew the thing that she probably kept from everyone, for good reason. After all, he kept a similar secret from people for the very same reason. That added a level of familiarity between them that wasn’t easy to get. Down the line, it was undoubted that he would have more questions, once his mind was wrapped around everything that she had said, and he figured that the same would be said of her. He’d try to explain it as best he could and hoped she would do the same.
“What can I say?” He asked nonchalantly. “I don’t scare very easily…” the fact that his girlfriend (still an odd thing to think about in that context, a good odd) was a werewolf wasn’t the worst thing that Jackson had dealt with. He’d seen those episodes of the cartoon Zelda that ran back in the late 80s on youtube, and plenty of other scarring stuff on the internet. Werewolf girlfriend? A walk in the park. Well excuuuuuuuuuuse me, Princess? A part of his soul died. Each time.
Annabelle’s answer tossed him for a loop. Visually traumatize himself? What did that mean? See, there was one of those questions, earlier than expected. Probably a little bit too early. He didn’t want to know what that meant. Not yet, at least. Okay, he did… but he wouldn’t ask. “So… everyone in your family’s like you, too?” That was what he gathered. Or that she was the only one, and she put herself around her family because they were the ones that she felt safest around. In his case, abilities were hereditary. Guesswork would surmise the same thing for lycanthropes, though he didn’t know.