Oh, fuck. That was her house. This was just one more reason to hate having family. Really. “If they’re awake, they’re getting laid and won’t be interested. My money is on drunken paralysis.” As for the parentals? No. No elder Hathaways would be disturbing the nightly comings and goings of their children. It saved therapy on both sides. “Besides,” she tried to look alive, as it were, though she had no idea how successful she was. She suspected she was as pale as he had been previously. “I’m the one the others avoid. Those heading for my room are generally labelled Kendal-fodder and don’t get a second’s thought.” The irony. Pulling out her keys, she silenced the jingling. “And yeah, you can come in too.” On the condition that, should you choose to massacre my family, you kill my parents first. “Assuming you didn’t already have an invite.” Otherwise, hello, redundancy.
“You’re sounding livelier,” Eric commented, unable to keep the relief out of his voice. He let her open the front door and thanked her for the invitation. He moved quietly up the stairs and into the room she pointed out. Moving the topmost sheet back with his knee (no mean feat, he assures you), he laid her down on her own bed, infinitely relieved the evening was (for the most part) over. Reaching down towards the almost absurd boots she was wearing, he gestured to her legs. “May I?” he asked, referring, of course, to removing her shoes.
“I have this habit of bouncing back,” she said with a half-smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice the hand-painted pornography on her wall. Well, if he was going to ask her about art... And at least it was more artsy than it was blatant. She did have some sense of class. But truth be told, the majority of Kendal’s liveliness was located in her voice box right now. And in the mind that was no longer throwing a tantrum or convinced it was dying. The rest of her wanted to curl up and fall asleep. If she didn’t wake up again, she would haunt this place for the rest of eternity. A quick mental check confirmed that this was the first time anyone had actually asked if they could remove an item of her clothing. It didn’t matter that they were just boots, it still amused her. She wasn’t going to tell him that, but didn’t have the forethought at present to tailor her expression to her internal monologue. “Knock yourself out.” And the smile broadened just a touch as she realised she had the hot vampire priest in her room. Sure, there was nothing further she could do with him right now, but maybe the bite had been worth it. There was always another way to raise the bar. Another day, though. “Eric?” Interrupted by a yawn. “Thanks.” For being nice on top of not killing her. Kendal’s standards amazed even herself.
Eric bent down to slide her boots off her feet and smiled at her comebacks. That was always a good sign. “You sure do,” he agreed as he tossed her boots into a corner of her room. The artwork was something he could ignore. He pulled a blanket up to her neck and tucked her in, like he had his little sister. “You sleep well,” he told her, leaning close. He stroked her hair away from her face and took a quick look at the bite marks. Those would leave bruises, definitely, she would have to hide them artfully. And he hoped she would. Leaning closer, he kissed the top of her head. “Thank you for your gift,” he said politely. Even if it had been given in rather odd circumstances. Eric was polite about everything. He had, however, overstayed his welcome and so with one last look at Kendal, he exited out the same way he had come in. Just as quietly, just as carefully. In the dark of the night, he hid and reflected upon his sins.