The Universe's Mixer

Christine wished she did not have to leave Erik behind but he had made it very clear what she was to do. Although her Angel did not have to provide her with this option she knew she would need it. She could not stay in her current robe forever so clothes were a necessity. Which meant Christine agreed to allow Erik's car and service to go purchase clothing. She was very unsure when it came to money at first but at his assurance she knew she would be fine. Well, he told her to rely on his personal assistant and she would do. She had no one else to trust and rely on and if her Angel said this man is trustworthy then she would trust him completely.

But as he took her into one of the stores Christine was unsure. After all, the clothing was so different to what she was used to. Some of it shorter than a girl would wear out in public. Yes her outfits when dancing were not the most conservative but they were costumes. That was different. When it came to her personal clothing, the clothing she had to wear when around others and not rehearsing, normally she was covered. She ran her hand over one of the dresses, a very short one that would fall just below her knees, and continued to look unsure.

Were they proper? What about sizing and pricing? It was all so different to what she knew of back home. A lot of her dresses she was lucky enough to have help purchasing or they would be made to fit. Oh goodness, she had no idea. And not only should they fit proper and not be too improper, they had to please Erik. And what if what she picked did not do so?

( Cut for spoilers for Ghost Story )

Eric thought to check on Fangtasia after a little while spent in the arms of his witch. Pam knew enough to run it on her own, and he didn't doubt her ability or commitment to the club, but every once in a while he liked to drop in and let the employees know that they still had to answer to him.

When he approached, the building looked different to him. Bigger, was the most noticeable part. Still the rich blood red that it had been painted. But the neon sign was missing. Nowhere on the outside was it designated Fangtasia. Nor were their posters in their nice movie-style frames. And the door was now situated directly in the center, instead of off to one side.

Confused, and a bit irked, Eric wandered in. What he saw stopped him in his tracks just on the other side of the threshold. The interior of the bar was changed more than the exterior had been. It seemed to be divided in half. One side, the dark red on the walls, the pitch black tile on the floors. On the other, wood. Wood floors. Wood on the walls. Even his lovely black laquor bar changed halfway, into something of old, worn wood. Beautiful hand picked red and black furniture butted up against used up stools and tables.

It pissed him off.

Being well before the time when Fangtasia would normally open, there was nobody there for him to yell at. Eric considered just setting fire to the whole thing. It was during this brooding fantasy that he noticed somebody else.

Her bar had been taken over by a vampire bar. Or rather, it had been smashed into a vampire bar. There were no words for how upset Jo was about this. She wanted to hit something, shoot something, and possibly set something on fire.

Unfortunately, she'd checked around and there was nothing to hunt at the moment. She considered calling Ted, but she really didn't want to become that girl that went running to a guy whom she'd only been on one actual date with.

So instead she found a bar. Not her bar, but some dive bar that was devoid of vampires and had the most delicious aroma of pizza wafting out the door.

Pizza and beer wouldn't make things all better, but it was a start. Jo ordered a large pizza in spite of being on her own and she told the bartender to keep her glass filled. She didn't really know where she'd sleep tonight, but it wouldn't be the first night she'd made her bed in a motel. She could deal until she could find some way to fix the bar situation.

Though River more or less gave herself over to the agents who came to arrest her, her mind did not give her any peace.

Not on the ride to their facility.

Not when they processed her.

Not when they started to ask her questions, not when she kept silent.

Her thoughts were a jumbled mess she had no control of, even if she was struggling to remember Harry Dresden's lessons on how to be in control. And despite John Coffey's help, River sounded more like her old self than she had in quite some time.

The men had handcuffed her because she'd hit one of the agents, and River was not making any attempt to free herself from the cuffs. Her mind was racing, yet that destructive point where she saw only red had somehow been replaced with something like disbelief. No one had seen her. She knew this. There had been only her and the man and the tree.

No one had been there.

No one could have known.

It was not long before she began saying these things aloud, and also peppering her speech with things that no one would understand--except possibly Simon or Hannibal. She'd told them, with a very cold expression, to contact Dr. Hannibal Lecter when they'd asked if she had a lawyer, or if they should call her family.

They'd put her in a room with a big lock on the door, and men guarding it. She was free to pace and babble, which is what she was doing, boots hardly making any noise on the floor.

When she lapsed into Mandarin, River heard the man at the door ask if there was anyone in the building that spoke Chinese. She'd stopped pacing to glare.

She could escape, if she wanted to hurt a lot of people. But River did not want to do that, despite her anger, and despite how close she was to that line where she lost herself entirely.

A few agents came in, left food, told her Hannibal'd been called, a message left. When the door opened, River was never surprised.

Someone always had something to say. And it was a big building.