Who: Agent Carolina and Stefan Salvatore When: End of Aprilish Where: Bar What: What’s a busted kneecap between friends? Rating/Warnings: Low/Some cursing Status: Complete
Stefan wasn’t sure why Wash’s former CO wanted to meet with him for drinks. They hadn’t exactly left on the best of terms… but then again they hadn’t left on the worst of terms, either. The world was fucking with him lately, and he’d decided to fuck with the world--throw caution to the wind and do what he wanted to do. So he had a blood bag for breakfast instead of hunting in the woods nearby. It made him feel strong. He headed out at the appointed time to meet with Carolina, and the thought of their last interaction brought a smirk to his face.
The bar was mostly empty when he arrived. That was better for Stefan--the fewer people there were the less likely he was to catch a whiff of blood and get hungry again. He moved across the room and ordered a bottle of whiskey to be set before him, then settled on a stool and waited for Carolina to show up.
Carolina was not sure if this was the best idea she had come up with in the last week, but it was something that would need to happen eventually. At the end of the day, Stefan was Wash’s friend and even if she did not need to get along with him, they should at least make a bit of peace so that when everything eventually went weird (again?) in this damn county, they would not have to worry about any lingering doubts at whom they should need to be pointing their guns - or notpoint, as the case may be.
Opening the doors to the bar, she spotted Stefan by the bar and headed his direction, albeit a bit slower than she usually would. “Hey.” She nodded at him as she sat down on the stool beside him. She eyed the bottle of whiskey with a small smile and held up two fingers to the bartender so that she could get a glass as well. “This one’s on me.”
Stefan turned to look when the woman spoke, and nodded in a greeting. Then lifted the bottle and poured into both glasses when the bartender set one down in front of her. It was nice to have some company, even though their last interaction had been a bit... Well, now that Stefan knew that the woman wasn't a danger to Wash...
"Well, thanks." He finished pouring, giving himself double the amount in her glass, and stood the bottle upright again.
Carolina’s lip quirked upward at the pour. Once she knew the guy was just trying to do right by Wash, she had felt a bit bad about shooting him in the kneecap. Just a bit. Stefan had healed too quickly for her to feel any worse than that. “I’m not good at apologies, so I figured I would just buy you a drink instead.” At least in a bar Stefan could be sure that she had not brought along any firearms. (Remember, kids: never mix alcohol and weapons!)
She held up her glass to clink against Stefan’s in an informal toast. “Cheers.”
Wash was one of Stefan's best friends. He could probably count the number of people he'd take a bullet for on one hand. Now that he knew Carolina was looking out for Wash--even though he still felt he didn't have all of the details--they were on much better terms. So far so good. And hey, Stefan could always use another drinking buddy.
"I'm not good at accepting apologies, so I'll let you buy me that drink." Stefan tried to be funny. It wasn't until after he said it that he realized it might not have come out the way he'd intended. "Cheers." He lifted his glass and clinked it against hers, then gulped half of it in one go.
"Is he talking to you again?" Stefan asked, setting his glass down.
The man had an interesting sense of humor. Carolina gave him a wry smile before taking a good sized swallow of the liquid in her glass. There was nothing quite like the smooth burn of whiskey to cauterize wounds between stalkers.
Honestly, she had not been sure that Stefan would even show up, considering everything that had happened the first time they had met. Not everyone would be amenable to speaking to someone who had shot them. Extenuating circumstances or not. So when Wash came back with the man’s number, Carolina was relieved that the man was not going to hold it against her, or Wash.
“Yeah, after a bit of blackmail.” Carolina gave the man a glance out of the corner of her eye. “He really likes his comic books.”
Stefan was the kind of guy who forgave. A lot. With a brother like he had, if he didn’t forgive and forget he would have been carrying around a lot of junk. Not just in this world, but the Dream world, too. He had to keep trudging forward, with or without forgiveness. He figured the more he gave the more he’d get in return. Hopefully that would mean less baggage.
“Can’t say that I blame him,” Stefan replied. “Every man has his weak spot.” Stefan knew where his was.
The two glasses were getting empty, so Carolina reached for the bottle to give them both a refill. She had been extremely lucky that the comic books had worked. She was not sure what else she could have used if Wash had continued his radio silence. I really should’ve checked to see if there were any old pictures while I still had the boxes. Those likely would have worked while also providing her with future blackmail. The sisterly kind, this time.
“That they do.” Her eyes looked pointedly down at his leg. “I know yours isn’t your knee, and I’m willing to bet that it’s also not Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Although, if it is, I promise to let you know if I find any rats hanging around the martial arts gyms. Just in case.”
Stefan chuckled softly. “No, my soft spot is much more predictable and boring.” After all, Stefan was Edward Cullen. The bastard. He hated this about himself, but he couldn’t deny it. In his Dreams he was in a love triangle, having to deal with other vampires and werewolves--the only creature in the world that could kill him with ease. And nearly did. No, Stefan’s soft spot wasn’t comic books or kneecaps. His soft spot was a girl. And what a girl she was.
He lifted the refilled glass in a little toast, and then gulped from it. “But I don’t have yours figured out. Besides Wash, of course.” Probably because he didn’t know her from Adam. Maybe if they got to know one another better, he’d have some idea what made the woman tick.
If asked, Carolina would firmly disagree that Stefan was anything like Edward Cullen. For one, he did not sparkle in the sunlight or gaze at brunettes with soulful puppy dog eyes. He could also take a bullet a lot better. “Soft spots usually are. Family, friends, significant others.” She shrugged. All of the above, in her case. “Those’re who all the movie villains like to kidnap to mess with the protagonist.”
She returned the toast, smiling around the rim of her glass. “Wash would hate being the ‘damsel in distress’, in those films. Probably almost as much as he would hate being called someone else’s soft spot, even if it were true.”
“It’s not true?” Stefan asked, eager to move on from the subject of his ‘soft spot.’ He didn’t like the idea that someone out there might want to use Bubbles to get to him. Or any of the others, really, but since Bubbles was now technically his girlfriend, he should probably work a little harder to protect her. She was his biggest weak spot, next to Damon.
“What is your weak spot, then?” Stefan asked, smirking, convinced she wouldn’t tell him in a million years.
And then some, but Carolina could not help want to answer anyway. York had told her once that her sense of humor was so dry the British would be jealous. “Weapons. Especially modern weapons. Although I have been known to go weak at the knees for a few swords. Especially Japanese katanas.” She sipped her whiskey with a straight face.
“Ah.” Stefan lifted his own glass and sipped from it. Gulped, really. Then he set it back down again. “I don’t really have much patience for weapons.” When a dude could kill a man with his bare hands (and fangs?) he didn’t bother with guns and shit. Swords were okay. Stakes were better. Especially white oak ones.
Carolina raised an eyebrow. “Given what I’ve heard about this place, I didn’t think going without a weapon was an option.” She downed the rest of the glass. He had not been armed when he had followed her into the backyard, perhaps that really was because he could fight without a weapon. He could certainly heal without one. “What do you fight with, anyway?”
Stefan lifted his hands. That was all he needed. He had vamp speed, vamp strength, and, of course, the fangs of a monster. He could understand why people in Orange County wanted--needed?--weapons to protect themselves. This place threw the weirdest shit at people. But Stefan wasn’t people. Stefan was the weird shit.
“Like I said, I don’t have much patience for weapons.” He reached over to pour some more alcohol into his glass. He was actually starting to feel it, which was a good sign. It would help with the hunger.
“Remind me never to ask you for a bare-handed spar.” Carolina mused. If the guy could dig through concrete, she would hate to see what he could do to flesh and bone. For the first time since she had met Stefan, she began to feel lucky that the man did not have any intentions of killing her when they first met. If there were others like Stefan who would mean her harm, she was going to need a bigger gun.
She eyed Stefan’s glass and then the quickly-emptying bottle of liquor. Now, she was no stranger to downing stupid quantities of alcohol, but she was starting to think that switching to beers for a while might give her a better perspective on other people’s...habits. Carolina finished her glass but instead of refilling it she called the bartender over for a beer. “So what’s your story? How did you end up in this crazy place?”
“I grew up here,” Stefan replied. “My older brother and me. He taught history for a while, but now he owns a club. I joined the Navy straight out of high school and spent five years overseas. It was only natural to come back here for a while, but now that I’m here? I… I have no desire to live anywhere else.” That was funny. Stefan hadn’t realized he felt that way until he’d said it out loud.
He poured himself another drink. “It wasn’t until the weird shit started happening that I almost regretted coming back here.”
“A Navy man, huh?” Considering the large Naval base a stone’s throw from Orange County, it made sense. It also explained why Carolina felt an undertone of camaraderie even as she was trying to figure out just how dangerous the man was. “Even with all that ‘weird shit’, I suppose home is still a home.” She wondered how she would react if something like this had started up in her hometown back in Texas instead of in a strange place. Probably not as calmly as Stefan seemed to be taking it.
“I haven’t been here long, but from what Wash has told me, I don’t think I’d have the confidence to fight against everything with just my hands.” Carolina tilted her beer toward Stefan as a nod of respect. “Hell, I think I’ve tripled the number of weapons in my car since I arrived.”
Stefan nodded, swallowing. He was a corpsman, which meant medical training and working side by side with Marines. “Home is still home,” he repeated after her, then set his glass down. That was the main reason he stuck around for so long. He didn’t really belong anywhere else. This was where he was meant to be, as fucked up as it was.
“I’ve got several lifetimes experience.” Stefan was tired of beating around the bush here. He leaned back a little against the bar. “Confidence comes with experience, I guess.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Carolina mused as she took another sip of beer. She did not have experience dealing with all these supernatural horror movie monsters come to life, but she would need to have the confidence to fight them anyway, with or without a weapon. There was a time she would not have even considered the thought of not having the confidence to win, but now every night she dreamt she was reminded that she was not as strong as she could be, that she should be, but would never be. No matter how hard she trained, or how badly she wanted to win, Tex always managed to do her one better. Even her own father trusted that bitch of a rookie more than he did his own daughter. What would happen if she failed not just in her dreams, but back here in the real world where real people were depending on her?
Carolina took another sip of beer to wash away the questions and self doubt before they could surface too far. “So what style do you practice? Kempo? Karate? Wing Chun?”
Stefan chuckled softly. Back when he trained for war the first time, the fighting style was completely different than when he trained the first time in this world. Everything had changed in the hundred plus years he’d spent alive as a vampire. “Mostly I just swing until the other guy goes down,” he teased, breaking into a smirk. “It’s easy when you’re as strong as I am.” He hadn’t talked all that much about what he was with Carolina. But she was here, she was a Dreamer, and they were starting some kind of a friendship, right? Maybe it was time to be honest. Hopefully she wouldn’t just think he was macho.
That made Carolina snort. She had met more than a fair share of Marines who had thought that just because they were bigger and stronger than her that they could take her down. They had all lived to regret that point of view. “Strength isn’t everything.” This guy was one of Wash’s friends she was supposed to trust with her brother’s life; who could blame her for trying to make sure that he was up to the task? “But it’s a great start. Have you ever thought about learning a style other than straight brawling? It might help focus that strength of yours.”
Slowly, the glass lowered. Stefan was very much enjoying the conversation. Who knew that something so amusing could come from a bullet to the kneecap? "Are you offering to teach me?" Stefan asked. Sure, he had a ton of memories from his Dreams, and he'd studied all kinds of fighting techniques there... but how much of that had he actually hung onto? Having some more discipline would always help a vampire who could go Ripper at any given moment. He wasn't about to turn down the idea of getting a little extra help in his life.
“I guess I am.” Carolina mused, setting down her beer and turning to look at Stefan’s figure with a more discerning eye than she had before. He looked like he was in pretty decent shape, so she would probably not have to push too much of the muscle-building exercises that most new students had to go through, even in the military. She had taught a few students MCMAP while still in the Marines, but that had been years ago, back when she still cared about advancing more than the people she had lost. Then again, she had never taught a student who could take a bullet to the kneecap before. “I’m a pretty strict teacher, though.”
“Then sign me up.” Stefan wouldn’t mind having more training. And he could either keep better tabs on Carolina or he could maintain a better friendship with her if they met up more often. Or both, actually. He didn’t think that Wash would mind. “I have the type of personality that works better with a firm hand, anyway.” He lifted the glass to gulp from it. So long as he didn’t have to give up alcohol, this would be a very good arrangement.
“It’s settled, then.” The grin was more wolfish than mirthful. “I’m not going to go easy on you just because you’re Wash’s friend.” Actually, Wash would probably be happy to get a break from the constant sparring Carolina had forced him into. It was good training, for both of them, but going over the basics again would also help her remember the fundamentals of her primary martial art.
“I can start you on the basic forms when you’re ready, but you’ll have to wait a bit before I’m in any shape to do any practice sparring.” She took a long drink of her beer. There was no way on God’s green Earth that Carolina would ever practice a martial art that required her to give up alcohol entirely. That simply was not very zen.
“I was under the assumption that you would make it a bit harder for me simply because I’m friends with Wash.” Stefan smirked softly, reached forward, and refilled his glass. The room was pleasantly warm--a sensation that he only got when he’d been drinking heavily. As he was now.
“Sounds good.” Stefan said, then lifted his glass as if in a toast. He paused, though at her next sentence. “What happened that put you out of shape to practice sparring? Wait, let me guess,” he set the glass back down again. “Someone shot you in the kneecap. Am I right?”
“You have good instincts.” Carolina returned the smirk and nodded to the bartender for another beer. It was standard operating procedure in the military to push new recruits as far as possible to see where they broke, and then push even further. Far be it from her to stop such a long-standing tradition. It sounded as if Stefan had not had much formal training, but she hoped that there were not too many bad habits that would need to be corrected. Confidence in a fight was one thing, but overconfidence because of his natural advantages would be bad in the long run.
“Ha ha.” The sound was not jovial at all. He still had not told her how he had managed to heal from that so fast. Carolina finished off the remainder of the pint glass and set the empty to be collected. The bruise along her side was a sight to behold, but she was not about to lift her shirt up for a game of show-and-tell in the middle of a bar. “Apparently my dream self had a run in at high speeds with a highway divider. Unfortunately, the dream ended before I could get any of that wonderful twenty-sixth century healing.”
Carolina was going to have to push a long, long way to get Stefan to break. And, actually, it would be rather dangerous for her if she could make him reach that point. He was fairly confident that he wouldn't lose control, even if he broke. Still, it was something they'd have to take carefully. At least, he would have to take carefully.
Stefan was more amused than anything. He didn't care about a bullet to his knee. Watching her react to his mentioning it was even more amusing. "So, you died in your Dreams?" Stefan asked, for clarification. "I guess that's something we've got in common."
That would definitely not stop her from trying. If anything, his resistance to breaking would only fuel Carolina’s determination to push him that much harder. Eventually she would put in a few failsafes just in case, but she doubted someone who did not retaliate after being shot would break into anger over determination.
“I was in my armor, so I didn’t die. At least, not yet.” Carolina was due for a one-way trip down a cliff sooner or later, but she still did not entirely believe that there was not anything she could do to influence her dreams, or rather influence herself in the dreams, the same way the dreams had been affecting her. It also annoyed her to hear that she would die not in battle like the rest of her squad, but by being thrown off a fucking cliff by someone she had trusted with her life. Go figure. The beer paused halfway to her lips as his words registered. “Wait, you died in your dreams? I thought Wash said you were still dreaming?”
Ah, so Stefan had it wrong there. His brow furrowed just a little as he wondered a little more about her Dreams. Sure, he and Wash had talked about them a little bit, but he wasn't positive about them. There were things he didn't understand, couldn't wrap his mind around. But then the topic of conversation turned around to his Dreams, and Stefan lifted his glass to gulp from it again before he replied.
"I am. But I've died in my Dreams. Several times." Non stop for a few months, actually, on top of all the other times. He set the glass back down on its coaster. "The first time I died was during the Civil War."
“...What?” Carolina tried to wrap her mind around that thought. Even the idea of being a Space Marine had made more sense than what Stefan was saying. She belatedly remembered that he had said something about having ‘multiple lifetimes’ of experience. Apparently it had not just been a turn of phrase for the man. “What do you mean the first time you died?”
Carolina’s frown was back with a vengeance. She shifted to give him a once-over for a very different reason. Asking him what he was might seem a bit rude, so she tried a different route. “What exactly do you dream of, Stefan?”
Stefan gulped down the last of the liquor from his glass, and moved to refill it. That drained the last of the bottle. A normal dude his size who drank almost an entire bottle on his own? Probably would have been on the floor. Or in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. But Stefan simply looked a bit tipsy.
“In my Dreams my brother and I are vampires,” he explained, then glanced over to gauge her reaction. A lot of stuff had bled through the Dreams to all sorts of people in Orange County. Stefan wondered if she’d put two and two together about his Dreams.
Carolina noticed the state of the bottle. The last time she had finished a bottle of liquor had been that fateful night when Wash had found the files in her apartment. Stefan could give the two of them a run for their money at this rate. Not that she was judging, but the man was doing better than either of them had with half as much alcohol in their systems. I wonder if the dreams have anything to do with that. As long as he did not fall over, she figured his liver was working overtime to make up for the difference.
“Vampires. Really.” Carolina gave Stefan a flat look that clearly said she did not believe his explanation one bit. For one, he had cornered her during the day. Every vampire story that she had ever read or seen had the vampires burning up in the sun’s rays. Well, every story but Twilight, but that hardly counted as a vampire story.
"You say that like you don't believe me." Stefan said, cracking a wide, bright smile. It was even more amusing to realize that she didn't believe him. Of course, it was pretty ridiculous, wasn't it? If he hadn't been in his current position, he might not have believed it possible.
Stefan leaned forward a little, settling his glass back on its coaster. "Tell me, how do you think I was walking after you shattered my knee with your bullet? And how do you think I've downed an entire bottle of whiskey right in front of you without crashing to the floor?"
“You’re also walking in the middle of the day.” Carolina pointed out. The O.C. was full of the unexplained: gladiators, jedi, mages...space marines, but a vampire that could tan? That defied what little logic was left in this place. “Let me guess, you also enjoy garlic bread in the morning with a chaser of holy water?”
Carolina turned to lean in as well, not backing down. “Having a good liver doesn’t prove you’re a vampire.” She was glad to hear that her aim had not been off that day, but Stefan was right. It raised a lot of questions that would be answered if the man were a supernatural being known for being able to heal itself through practically anything.
"There are ways to protect myself from the sunlight," Stefan replied. "I'm not particularly fond of garlic, and only some holy symbols have any effect." He wasn't actually positive about a lot of those things, he'd never come across them in his Dreams. There were things he knew for sure--wooden stakes, vevain, werewolf bites, but some of the other stuff was legend.
He raised an eyebrow. "What about the insatiable hunger for human blood?" He asked, and suddenly his eyes were red. More than just red, the veins around them went bright red, and his teeth seemed to become more pronounced. "I'm sure you have an explanation for that one, too?"
“What do you mean protect yourself from sunlight?” Had Stefan used an umbrella or something? She had not seen him carry any so far. Carolina had this odd feeling that she was missing a very big piece of vampire lore. Her brother would probably know. Damn him. She was just about to ask why only certain holy symbols were supposed to work when she caught sight of the changes in his face and it derailed the rest of those thoughts.
What the fuck was up with those eyes? Not to mention those teeth. Carolina’s first instinct was to reach for the firearm at her side, but her hand grabbed only air. Dammit. She usually made a point not to carry while she was drinking, but right now she was cursing the responsible action. She reached for the pint glass again. In a pinch, she figured she could break the side and use it as a makeshift shiv. “That had best not be my blood you’re talking about, Salvatore.” Carolina growled.
“I’m not about to share all my secrets,” Stefan replied. The fewer people who knew about his daylight ring, the better. Stefan didn’t keep that many secrets, but that one he knew he should keep to himself. Without it, he’d be toast.
Stefan forced his face to return to normal. He could see the surprise on her face, and felt just a little bad about putting it on in the first place. But whatever. Orange County could suck it. He lifted his glass to gulp from it, and gave a shake of his head. “Not your blood, no. I stick to animal blood.” For the most part, anyway.
“Fair enough.” Carolina’s voice had not quite returned to its normal register by the time Stefan’s face had lost the dark veins around his eyes. It was good to know that her fight-or-flight reflex was still very firmly set at ‘fight’. She rolled her shoulders to try and ease the remaining tension out of them but winced as it pulled at her side. Even if her instinct said otherwise, she really should not be fighting right now.
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.” Carolina took a long drink of her beer. He was a vampire. A fucking vampire that could walk around during the day and apparently had no problems with garlic toast and holy water. What the hell was up with this place? A concealed gun in her purse now felt woefully inadequate. Not that she was planning on trying to kill Stefan anytime in the future, but if there were other...vampires... they might not be as reasonable. Jesus. No wonder he didn’t care that I was holding him at gunpoint.
A deep breath and another drink later, most of the adrenaline had passed through Carolina’s system. She was able to glance over at her companion once again without her hand itching to rest on a non-existent pistol. “Animal blood and whiskey, huh? Sounds like one hell of a diet.”
Stefan simply sat and sipped from his glass, waiting for her to wrap her brain around what he'd said, what he'd told her. It was almost as if he could hear the gears turning, see her face change as she came to accept it. Stefan had no intention of drinking Carolina's blood. He was strictly on animals and blood bags. And he was trying to keep it that way. Anything more might lead to the Ripper, and Stefan didn't want that. Too much pain, too much guilt. He wasn't prepared for any of that.
He waited, sipped, and waited some more. Then she spoke again, and he gave a little chuckle. "You're telling me. I can eat and drink other things. Makes me feel more human. But it doesn't taste anything like it did, so it's fleeting."
Makes him feel human. Jesus Christ. Carolina suddenly regretted her decision to switch from hard liquor to beer. The alcohol had started to relax her before the man went all red-eyed on her, but now her buzz was practically non-existent. Making sure that Stefan’s eyes were actually normal again, she flagged the bartender for another beer. At least if she started babbling about the insanity of Orange County, people might just think she was drunk.
“Can you at least get drunk?” Did the liver even function if someone was undead? Carolina shook her head. There were too many questions but she did not think she was in the right state of mind to hear the answers. The rest of the conversation returned to her a moment later. She had just agreed to teach a vampire to fight with his hands. Forget bruises, how the hell was she supposed to block his strikes in training? The beer moved to her head, the cool glass calmed her thoughts. Deal with that later, Church. “I’m sorry, you’re just the first…” Vampire? Non-human? Oddity? “person I’ve met in your... situation.”
"It takes a lot to get a proper buzz going. Getting smashed is almost out of the question. My metabolism burns off the alcohol before I can feel the affects, really." It was unfortunate. Getting drunk would probably really help Stefan in the short-term. And in the long-term. "Drinking alcohol helps with the hunger, though. Something about it." He lifted his glass as if in a toast, then gulped again from it. There was a little burning, some warmth in his belly. Maybe that's what helped to curb his hunger. He had no idea.
Stefan nodded, swallowing, then set the glass back down again. "It's quite all right. There are a few of us around in Orange County. Some are quite vocal and visible--my brother, for instance, seems to announce his business to the whole world--or anyone with a Valarnet subscription. I prefer to keep things a little more quiet. So I would appreciate your... discretion on the subject."
“At least you don’t have to worry about being a cheap date.” Carolina was glad she had not offered to get the guy drunk to make up for shooting him; she was paid well, but probably not well enough for a vampire to drown his sorrows without eating into the money she had been saving as a deposit for a new apartment.
“You have my word.” Carolina nodded to him. Hearing that Stefan was not the only vampire in Orange County did nothing to assuage her fears. Once she sobered up a bit she was going to go straight to the weapon’s shop she had seen on her way there and pick up a second shotgun. Just in case the city were to be attacked by vampires. Even if they could recover from getting shot in the head with a hollow point, Carolina figured it would buy her enough time to find out what would kill it. “Not sure anyone would believe me if I did, anyway.” She smirked and took another drink of beer.
There were so many things about being his kind of Vampire that Stefan could tell Carolina. He didn’t have to worry about paying for things, he could compel pretty much anything he wanted out of any human he came across--provided they weren’t taking the rare herb verfain. Or wearing it on their person. He should probably make sure that Wash and Carolina have a stash of the stuff. Anna was on it, and Bubbles took it, too. It was a failsafe--and thank goodness. He might have killed Anna when he’d turned on October first if she hadn’t been taking it.
“Probably not. Better to be safe than sorry.” Stefan said, and emptied his glass. “Stranger things have happened, though I’m not sure I believe those, either.”
“I keep hearing that, too.” Carolina shook her head. Last weekend she had literally swapped bodies with someone, but that was nowhere near the stories of blood rain and being attacked by mutant woodpeckers that she had heard from Wash. She wondered how Stefan would fare with the blood rain, but decided against asking. That would likely be an even more awkward conversation. “I guess I should start expecting the impossible instead of the inevitable. It might make this place a bit easier to digest.”
“That’s the best way to go about things. Prepare for the impossible, and nothing will throw you off guard.” He set his glass down on the bar and sighed. “I want you to know that Wash isn’t in danger around me.” He felt like it needed to be said. He turned to look Carolina in the eyes, a very serious expression on his face. “Neither of you are in danger around me. So long as I stay well fed, there’s no reason to fear what I am.”
Carolina turned and studied Stefan. His expression was sincere and he looked as if he truly believed those words. She wished she could say the same.