The crone felt...pretty damn good. Or she had as she slipped out of the lab in one of the blue boy's t-shirts. It looked like an awkward dress, and the crone didn't seem to mind that it wasn't exactly the most decent thing she could wear walking about town. She didn't bother changing or showering as she headed to her possible home away from cabin. She knew he'd be in.
On her way she paused as she caught a headline of newspaper as someone walked by. She blinked, and with little effort, she had the paper and was quickly walking away, reading. A brow rose. So, he was going to answer questions. Every question answered. She actually smiled, but not from happiness.
The crone was not prepared for what greeted her as she entered the vampire's now unnecessary hideaway. The place looked like someone had been dancing, or trying to. There were clothes on the floor, discarded along the way to the...bed. And there was a very large male on the bed who looked like he had had a rough time of it before losing hold on the living world. Somewhere among the tangled sheets and vampire limbs there was a sweater; the crone had no idea she was sitting on it as she settled on the bed to stare at him.
Her hands rested on her knees; her eyes moved over his body. It was rare she took time to just take him in like this. Him or anyone else for that matter. She could and would wait for him to waken. They needed to talk...about many things. So there she sat on a fairy's sweater, wearing a mutant's shirt, all upon the vampire's bed.
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