Keller was up to her chin in warm water, letting it work out kinks and tension from the busy day. A wet washcloth rested over her face, filling her lungs with warm, moist air every time she breathed in. It was a little piece of heaven, right there in that bathroom.
    Her head tilted in the right direction when she heard the knock, and she removed the cloth from her face. "Yes??"

    "I bet you sing like an angel," Julianna assured him warmly, eyes sparkling. "Or at least you dance like an angel. I could handle just the dancing." Another giggle, as her had became comfortable on his shoulder. "I thought you'd like a little taste. You look so hot and all."
    Ry smiled at them, which only widened a bit when Gamble agreed without a fuss. He could grow to like that man, if given the opportunity.
    "Never," Julianna agreed, giving him another glowing smile, before he disappeared inside. She wiggled her fingers at the dogs, and they grumped and whined but followed their master.
    Except Cujo. He remained right at the screen, growling very softly, eyes fixated on Ry. Julianna made a soft crooning sound, reaching over to touch his nose lightly through the screen. "It's okay, big boy," she assured him with a small laugh. "I'm right here."
    The dog nuzzled her fingers, but his eyes remained on Ry. Behind Julianna's back, Ry gave the dog a teeth-bared look of challenge and Cujo immediately began barking and howling, jumping up on the screen door, clawing at it as if trying to get out.
    Julianna's eyes widened. "Cujo!" she exclaimed. "What's the matter??" That didn't seem like proper dog behavior, even to her.
    "Now /he/ seems the jealous type," Ry observed good-naturedly. "Perhaps we should step out of his sight before he wrecks Mr. Oak's door??"
    "I guess so," Julianna said worriedly, as Cujo just kept doing it. "We can go around---"
    "My car is actually just down the drive, if you don't mind getting wet," Ry pointed out. Eyes swept over her. "Not that it looks like you do."
    Finally turning from Cujo, Julianna grinned at the pristine looking vampire. "No, but I imagine you do. Don't have a driver to come get you??"
    Ry chuckled, low and rich, even under the batter of the rain on the porch's roof. "No. I like rain. And I understand the necessity of getting dirty in certain situations." He rested his hand lightly at her back, guiding her off the porch. The sharp sideways look she sent him merely made him smile again.

    "There are all kinds o' takin' care o' yaself, luv," Patrick pointed out softly, eyes caressing her face with gentle concern. "We all need diff'rent things at diff'rent times in our lives."
    He smiled at her admission. "Well at least ye recognize tha' fact afore ya meet wit' 'er. An' tha' is true as well. Yer little corner is startin' tae seem a bit secluded. It'll be good fer ya tae see some o'her people fer a while."
    The look on her face and the tone of her voice brought a laugh to his own lips, as he topped up his wine glass again. "'Cept when I say it, I know I'm jokin'. No' so sure 'bout ye."

    "You don't dream??" Gift inquired curiously. "Have you ever??" C.J. being called exuberant just made her grin as she downed another drink. "That's true, I suppose. Though sleeping has always been a golden excuse for most situations."
    "Sometimes it's nice just to be left with your own thoughts as well, so pretending works well," Christian agreed.
    Darshan received sympathetic if amused looks from his companions when his head went to the table. "At least they're not intentionally causing you trouble, most of the time," Gift offered. "They prefer to steer clear of you. Fun, I can't say. I imagine fun has varying degrees among the gang."
    Christian smirked. "It sounds like fun just to get to know these people."

    "Mrawl," C.J. agreed with a giggle, finishing her shots and wiggling her fingers for more. There was a shiny glow to her face and her eyes were a little more glazed, but Queenie ignored it, much more interested in what she saw on the stage. C.J. could get as drunk as she wanted, as long as pretty men kept strutting around.
    "I love how flexible cats are," she sighed happily, sipping at her own drink as the tiger man started a slinking sex dance on the stage. Women crushed forward, screaming and waving money. He just smiled that silky, seductive smile and kept doing his thing.
    "I'm having a hot flash," Queenie observed.

    Ash smiled at the humans again, then turned his attention to the blond. "They're here, therefore requiring no hunting," he pointed out, with that lazy arrogant Redfern tone to his voice. If only it mattered anymore. "I'm sure we could find a way."
    "Not you alone, because you're much too fond of your bottle at the moment," Blaise said dryly. Just because she didn't like Frost picking on her cousin didn't mean she couldn't. "So we're to help with your laziness. I'm seeing a problem with that, Ash."
    He merely shrugged and the conversation went to better areas. Blaise nodded slowly at Irene's words, head tilted thoughtfully as she studied the humans. "Getting their attention quicker will mean faster results, which we can all agree will be for the best of all." A sideways look was sent to Ash, which only deepened when he made mention of his hunger again.
    Ash seemed to be considering Irene's words, but Damon inclined his head. "That I doubt, so we'll keep them alive if not particularly safe. At least until we deal with Daybreak and see how friendly they're feeling." He gave Irene a promising smile. "Sometimes they feel friendlier after they know we're willing to kill vermin."
    That was the second time vermin had been mentioned, and the last time Yakov wanted to hear it. Without further ado, he took Katya's arm and made a quick move towards the elevator. Except that took him right by the dark-haired man, and his eyes slid past his. Or at least were supposed to slide past his. Instead, they got caught, and Yakov couldn't take his gaze away. Couldn't...shouldn't...didn't want to...
    Blaise sighed as the male's hand fell away from the female. "I've always wished I had that ability. Where do we put them??"

    "There are some things that he's going to need to know," Anna said, but there was no real argument in her voice. It was Price's choice what he told his parents, and she could respect that. All the same, it worried her a little that he hadn't mentioned something... like this... to the leopard.
    Her hand jerked a little when he mentioned the blood to the person on the phone, her fingers curling against his spine before they relaxed flat again. Then he turned towards him, and because she was still resolutely focused on him and not the scene within the apartment, she could tell how carefully controlled the expression on his face was. That was almost more disturbing than anger would have been.
    He kissed her hands, and she twisted them in his grasp, until she could cup his face gently. "I won't go home," she promised, in the tone of voice of a woman who knew how to pick her battles, "although I will need to call and tell them I'm not coming back for a while. They'll understand; they're Daybreak. School and work may be more difficult, but it can be arranged." She wasn't so stupid that she valued her job above her life; the danger was obviously real, and if they fired her, they fired her. She continued, her voice still soft and even. "I would like to know what you intend to do that I can't be around you when you do it, though."

    A puff of steam escaped as Galen pushed open the door, and he leaned his shoulder and hip against the doorframe, a faint frown still on his face. "I spoke to Price," he said, "and he said that he'd arrange the meeting with Darshan."
    He hesitated, obviously wanting to add something to that, but still puzzling through it himself.

    "I sing like a crow, although it's awful kind of you to say otherwise," Gamble drawled. "I'm not certain that angels are allowed to dance, but I'm thinkin' it must be a mighty awkward thing for them to do, with those great white wings attached to their backs."
    Then he was inside, and busying himself in the kitchen. He frowned when he heard the ruckus that Cujo was making at the front door, and made his was back into the livingroom, snagging the dog by the collar and tugging him back a few paces. He got a good glimpse of Julianna and Ry walking down the driveway through the rain. But as he had said, he wasn't the jealous type, and he wasn't about to protest Julianna seeking a private conference with a friend. If there was aught that he needed to know about, she would tell him.
    All the same, he /was/ a cautious man, and he lingered near the front of the house after he had pulled Cujo away, tidying up. No harm in keeping an eye on things, after all.

    "You've seen my home," Ai remarked, a little dryly. "Surely you don't doubt that I pamper myself? I hardly live a Spartan existance." She knew very well that wasn't what Patrick had meant, but that was the best she could offer him. She had a lavish home, an engaging job, loyal employees, a few good friends who she saw when she was able... More than that, she couldn't ask for. It was so much more than most people for fortunate to have. So much more than she had once been able to even hope for.
    And if she was a little secluded, as he put it, there were worse things in the world than a little bit of loneliness.
    "Patrick," she said, her tone turning teasing, "after so many years of knowing me, you should know by now that I'm completely in earnest when I say something like that."

    "If I ever dreamt," Darshan said, "I can't remember the time. It's hardly surprising. I believe that dreaming requires a certain amount of creative thought that most of my kind don't possess." He shrugged, and smiled in a manner that was a little wry and more than a little drunk. It seemed that the liquor was finally taking effect, although his gaze was still steady and he lacked even the slightest hint of a slur to his speech. "Perhaps the gods simply hadn't invented dreaming when they created us."
    "Not intentionally causing me trouble," he echoed, his voice taking on a flat note. "I'm terrified to see what they're like when causing problems on purpose, if this is what they're like unintentionally." A flat look to echo his voice was sent towards Christian when the word 'fun' was used. Just... no.

    "We're very flexible," Sahar agreed, grasping her calf and lifting it up until her knee brushed her collar bone and her foot was above her head to demonstrate. After all, she made her living on a stage as well, albeit not one like the one at the Happy Lap. Although maybe that was something to consider, since it looked like the performers here made a whole hell of a lot more than she did.
    She dragged her eyes away from the dancer long enough to give Queenie a sly sideways glance. "Yes, well, I hear that menopause is a real bitch," she teased wickedly.

    The arrogant tone to Ash's voice made Irene raise an eyebrow, but she forbore from commenting. It was a tone that she was well familiar with, one that came from being raised into power and knowing it. It was a tone she herself used, much of the time, and that thought provoked a quick glance at Damon Salvatore. She wasn't the only old-world nobility in the room, after all.
    "I'm all about the fast results," she said to Blaise, the eyebrow lowering and her expression turning faintly amused. Damon's words drew a nod out of her, because she really couldn't deny the truth of them. "If Daybreak shows reluctance to deal with us, then it might become necessary to prove to them that we are in earnest, and killing one or the other of them is most likely to do that. I think they'll deal, though. Circle Daybreak has never been known to hesitate when human lives are on the line." She placed just the right amount of mild derision in her words, and watched the others for a reaction without once removing her gaze from Damon. That was why she was there, after all, to gather information. This new development hadn't changed that.
    Katya watched, eyes wide, as Yakov stilled. She wasn't given a chance to protest, though, because the blond woman's hand snaked out and caught her chin, turning her head, and suddenly she was drowning in blue eyes. But that wasn't right. The woman's eyes were hazel. The thought was distant, and not very important, and she felt the last of her will go out of her, leaving her as silent and complacent as a doll.
    "It is useful," Irene agreed, letting her hand drop and stepping away from the girl, who remained standing at the center of the hall, her gaze vague and unfocused. "There have been times when I've envied a witch's abilities, however. So much more versatile, whereas ours have one real purpose - hunting prey. There are a number of empty rooms along this corridor. Can we put them in one of those?"

    "Maybe," Price agreed, in a level, calm voice that was completely at odds with the rage surging through his eyes. "But not now." Feeling her hand jerk at his back as he spoke again on the phone didn't help matters, but the cadence of his voice never changed. He'd been trained very well, by one of the best, and he knew vivid emotions couldn't help in the middle of a crisis. Oh yes, he felt them, but he didn't act on them.
    Once the phone call was done, he turned back to Anna with that rage hidden behind his walls. Her fingers felt cool on his skin and he was sorry, on a level deep inside, that she had to be here right now, had to be subjected to this. Another reason to make the person responsible for this even sorrier. "Good," he said softly. He didn't want to mess up her standing at school or work, but she was human, and he didn't want her in danger. Especially from the person who could do this, and had threatened her like he already had.
    The rage surged through his eyes again, because he wasn't perfect, and he struggled to repress it once more as Anna spoke. "I intend to find the man who did this, and make sure he can't do it again," he said, voice gentle. Price knew better than to try to smile with it though, so he just kept his face very neutral and calm.

    Keller didn't realize how steamy the bathroom was until she had to squint through it to properly see Galen. His words brought a little nod. "Good," she said, because that was one worry mark she could wipe away. The actual meeting was another mark all by itself, but the way to get the meeting to happen was taken care of.
    When Galen hesitated, she sat up a little. "What's wrong, Galen??"

    Cujo barked a protest when he was pulled away from the door, and started to paw insistently at Gamble's leg as the vampire tidied the house. Urgent whining noises rumbled from his throat, and the dog kept looking back at the screen door.
    As the pair reached Ry's car, Julianna let out a low whistle. "Nice car," she observed, eyes running over the sleek silver Corvette. Teasing eyes slid sideways. "I've heard this is a midlife crisis car. What do you say to that??"
    "Overrated," Ry said good-naturedly. "The old ones are POS's, but the new one is just as good as any other sports car for its design." He pulled his keys from his pocket and blipped the locks, then pulled the passenger door open for her. "Here, sit down. Even if it is the desert, it'll still get cold out here in the rain, and I'm not sure how long this will take."
    Julianna smiled at him. "Well thank you." And there was a chill in the air, now that the rain had started really soaking everything in sight.
    She eased herself onto the black leather seat, fearing her wet clothes would damage the interior, and Ry just chuckled. "Don't worry about it," he assured her, and she gave him a sheepish look as she settled comfortably.
    "Now, what did you want to talk to me about??" she asked curiously, looking up at him through the rain.
    The smile fell into a thoughtful look as he studied her. "Hmmm, not entirely sure where to start on that. It's kind of a long story."
    "Take your time," she assured him, because now the curiosity was almost strangling her and she /had/ to know.

    Patrick gave his companion a tolerant look, a smile still on his lips, and he gracefully let the topic fade off. She was stubborn, was Ai, and he knew pushing the subject would only make it worse. He'd just keep a closer eye on her for a while and see what came about.
    Another laugh and blue eyes twinkled in agreement. "Fair 'nough, luv. I'm glad, in tha' case, tha' ye could e'en find tha time tae fit ma in, since this doesna include any work."

    The thoughtful look on Gift's face dissolved into a snicker as Darshan spoke. Yes, an actual snicker, which just made Christian grin. "Yeah, the dragons I'm acquainted with aren't that creative," she agreed. "Except Koran, and I don't think he counts, since he was created and not born." Though, in that case, it seemed at least some dragons had a far gone sense of humor.
    "Damn Darshan, you sure know how to make a guy feel old," Christian chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. He wasn't quite as old as the dragons, but he couldn't remember any dreams he'd ever had either. What a depressing thought.
    "I have lots of dreams," Gift was proud to note, which was obvious in her voice. "Never a nightmare though. Except..."
    "Yes??" Christian inquired beguilingly.
    "I have this recurring dream of a giant hand-held blender coming after me," she admitted, dipping her finger into another shot. "Don't ask me why, because I have no rotten idea, but there it is."
    This time, Christian snickered.
    "Well that's something you'll probably never have to experience," Gift offered to the dragon, downing her shot. And letting out a small hiccup. "I don't think the gang is brave enough to intentionally cause you problems. Except Sahar, and she's not officially part of the gang."
    Christian merely grinned at his friend, sliding down a bit further in his chair so his head could rest comfortably against the back of it. He was well on the way to having the room spin, yep.

    C.J. cooed at Sahar when she lifted her leg, and Queenie raised her glass in an appreciative toast. "I can still do that," the older lioness assured her companions, and finished off her drink. Which she just barely managed not to spit out when Sahar teased her. "Oh, /you're/ a little bitch," she accused, wagging her finger. "I don't think we should let you get laid the entire time you're with us now, hmmph. I'll show you what a supposed menopausal woman can do with her man." A smirk, as the waiter reappeared to refreshen all of their drinks. "And perhaps some more men too. I always wanted to try that---C.J., what the hell are you doing??"
    "I want to be flexible," the tiger pouted, having caught her ankle in her hand and trying to lift it above her head. Now, Darshan could attest to her usual flexibility, but when a great deal of alcohol was involved, coordination wasn't quite so great.
    So, in the end, who was surprised when C.J. fell on her ass. The waiter froze, staring down at her in concern, but she was in the process of giggling her flat ass off, so it wasn't like she noticed anyway. And Queenie merely tapped him, to motion for her new drink.

    Damon couldn't not notice the blond glancing at him, so gave her a moment of undivided attention. He didn't recognize her, though her name sounded vaguely familiar. Another of Blaire's wannabe scions, clearly. Though the way she spoke, certain words she said, made his eyes narrow a bit in thought.
    "No, not at those stakes," Blaise agreed with the blond, because she knew Daybreak. If humans were in danger, they would scramble to accommodate any demands to make sure they came out of the situation safe and intact. Now, how to take advantage of that...
    Ash was looking at his hand again with a puzzled frown, as if fully expecting a bottle to be there. Like an extention of him these days. Damon kept his gaze locked with Irene's, opaque and heavy-lidded, and didn't reply as the humans tried to sneak past them.
    "And we're not allowed to think of that as prey," Blaise agreed, and the derision was heavy in her voice as she gave the humans a disdainful look. Ash reached out to lightly run his hand down the girl's back, but his fingers stuttered as they reached the swell of her backside.
    Damon gave a short shake of his head, then nodded to a room across the hall from them. "Just put them there. Dare I suggest something as trite as tying them to chairs?? Humans can be wily."
    "Handcuffs??" Blaise suggested with a shrug, eyeing her cousin, who seemed to be frowning at himself. "I don't have any myself, but I'm sure Frost does."

    "Not now," Anna replied, in a tone so mild that it could have been either agreement or simple statement of fact.
    She kept her hands in place, her cool fingers slowly warming against his flushed cheeks. She simply nodded when he made his soft response. There was nothing else to say; she would do what she could to make sure that she was safe, as much so that he didn't have to worry about her as for her own well being.
    Then he told her his plans, and her own deep calm slipped, just a little, showing her own fear at what had happened and what might yet happen, and more than that, an agony of concern. "You didn't tell Galen," she said, heard the ragged edge to her voice and smoothed it before continuing, "you sent your friends away, and the only call you've made is for clean up." She didn't add that he was sending her away, because she had no delusions about how useful she would be in a situation like this. She had a cool head and a smooth tongue, but she was also human and had received no special training. In a fight, she would be worse than useless: she would be a liability. "Please, don't tell me that you intend to find him and face him alone, Price."

    Galen hesitated for another moment, but he really couldn't afford not to speak. Price was her son, after all. Even if he wasn't sure that something was wrong, it was better to mention it and be wrong than hold his tongue and be right. "I don't want you to panic," he said, softly. "He might just be tired, or preoccupied, or worried about the same things that we are. I didn't even notice it, at first. But his voice didn't sound right, and right before he hung up, he asked me to take care of you." Mutual concern for Keller's safety had been and would always be between him and Price, but usually it remained unspoken. It certainly didn't crop up at random during phone calls.
    "I think maybe you should call him when you get out of the bath," he finished lamely.

    The urgent whining finally drew Gamble's attention back to Cujo, and he sighed, reaching out to bury his hand in the fur at the scruff of the dog's neck. "What's eatin' you, boy? Julianna's just gone for a walk about with Mr. Ry. Ain't no harm in that."
    Still, the dog was being rather insistent, and Gamble wasn't fool enough to mistrust an animal's instincts. It was how they survived, after all. He moved to the screen door, knowing the dog would follow him, and peered through the rain to where Julianna and Ry were standing by his car.
    She sat down in the seat, but the door to the car remained open, and Ry remained standing. They were talking. "I think you're just jealous. Don't worry, she likes you a whole lot more than that feller. You get pettin' and leftovers. He just gets a walk in the rain."

    "I always have time for you, Patrick," Ai assured him, with absolute sincerity. A quick smile lit her face. "Although, we do /talk/ about work an awful lot. In fact, I'm not sure we've talked about anything else since I stepped off the plane." Well, that, and the dreary state of her personal life, but the second subject was also tied intimately to work. "Tell me, what have you been doing in your own time since we last saw each other. Besides," she added archly, "the obvious, you unrepentant hedonist."

    "Koran," Darshan, drawing himself up with a great deal of dignity, which was not helped by the fact that he was clutching a bottle of tequila in one hand (having abandoned his glass temporarily) and wobbled a little with the sudden change in position, "was made, not created. /I/ was created. Koran was born... which is just proof that Nietzsche was right. The gods who made me are dead." Well, that wasn't it exactly, but the sentiment was more or less the same.
    He simply shrugged a shoulder when Christian said he felt old, and slumped back into a more comfortable position. His molten eyes drifted to Gift, and he was still lucid enough to think that she had to be very drunk indeed, if she was admitting to nightmare blenders. Either that, or he was /much/ drunker than he had ever been, to imagine Gift of all people confessing to nightmares of blenders.
    "Ah, but they'll follow her lead," Darshan replied, more resigned than upset at this point. "Mace is already calling me... gramps. If Terra hadn't pushed the envelope, so to speak, Mace would never have found out about our very distant blood relationship, and I shall never forgive her for this travesty upon my dignity. Gramps." Each word was still carefully pronounced, and he sounded dead sober. Then he let his head flop onto his shoulder, and watched as the room tilted a little. He sounded sober, but he rather thought that there might be some problems if he tried to get up.
    He tipped some more of the tequila into his mouth.

    "I can put my foot behind my head," Sahar said smugly. "Both of them." She made no attempt to demonstrate this, partially because the black dress was very short indeed and she rather thought that the performance would be wasted, since most of the people here were more interested in watching the piece of sexiness who was strutting his stuff on the stage.
    "Oh, you don't want to keep me from getting laid," she said, with amused dismay. "I'd be more of a bear without sex than Mace is being. I'd sulk, and then you'd have no one to play with, and wouldn't that just be sad." She stretched slowly, arching her back over the back of the chair and extending long legs out in front of her. "Besides," she purred, "I'd like to see you try to enforce that rule."
    Anything else that she might have said was interrupted by C.J.'s attempts to stretch, which were fine attempts indeed but didn't seem to coincide well with her ability to remain seated. She chuckled helplessly, since the other woman didn't seem to be harmed, and took a big swig of her drink.

    It was a pity that she was working, or Irene rather thought that she would have found Damon's undivided attention a not entirely unpleasant thing. Such lovely, intense dark eyes. It was also a pity, because she fully intended to screw these people over, and she rather wished that two of the three of them /hadn't/ had that kind of focused intensity. But that was what the disguise was for; to make sure that no amount of focus or intensity or anger would be enough for them to find her when this was all over.
    "Considering the fact he makes his home in Las Vegas," she mused, her gaze resting on Yakov's face, "Thierry Descouedres is very unwilling to gamble. With certain things, at least." Human life being one of those things. "The question is, since we have found a chip to bargain with, what do we use it for? Something that they would be willing to give in order to salvage these two. If the demand is set too high, and they would be risking more lives by giving in than by allowing our hostages to die, Daybreak won't do it." Her mouth tipped into a sardonic smile. "The need of the many outweighs the need of the few, and all that tripe."
    The need of the many. Yes, it would be good for her to keep that in mind.
    Keen contact-veiled eyes took in the way that Ash touched the girl and the way that his hand faltered, even as a soft chuckle escaped her lips at Blaise's words. "Not allowed," she repeated. "From what I know of you, Ms. Harman, you've never let that stop you." It didn't sound like a reproach.
    "Humans can be wily," she muttered, "and I wouldn't put it past them to shake the mind control, given time. I don't see why tying them to a chair wouldn't..." She stopped, her eyebrows arching sharply. "Laurie Frost owns handcuffs?" She asked, and sounded like she wasn't sure whether she should find that comment funny or not.

    Near-black eyes caressed Anna’s face gently and it was hard to tell if he cared about the flash of concern he saw there. But it was Price, and Price always cared about that kind of stuff. “No, I don’t intend to fight him alone,” he assured her softly. “I’ll find him alone, and then I’ll probably call someone.” Maybe. At this point, it felt more like a touch-and-go thing. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t.
    Some very black part deep inside him was hoping he wouldn’t, because then he could deliver onto this guy everything he was feeling beneath the skin. But that black part likely wasn’t the smartest compartment in the drawer.

    As always, when someone said “now don’t panic,” Keller’s muscles instinctively tightened. Because that was always followed by something panic worthy. Although it seemed to be a lesser extreme this time, and a soft frown touched her mouth. Price had always been fiercely protective of her, since he was an eight-year-old human boy, and she knew he and Galen had an understanding with that. But since Galen seemed troubled by it, and she did trust his instincts, she slowly nodded. “Okay, I’ll give him a call when I’m out.” If not before, because Price was her son, and she wanted to know if something was wrong with him.

    Back at the screen door, standing alertly at Gamble’s side, Cujo growled softly as he looked outside. The rain was coming down harder, making it almost fog-like past Gamble’s porch, and the dog pawed at the screen door. Big brown eyes that at the moment looked fierce and quite demanding turned up to the vampire, and Cujo did it again.
    “Hmmm,” Ry said again, one thumb absently scratching at the stubble covering his jaw line. Julianna looked at him curiously, arms wrapping around herself. Rain still dotted her jean-clad legs, which were hanging off the side of the car. Ry smiled at her and shifted around, so the door was closed more to block off the rain and his body filled the opening between it and the car’s body. He even arched a little, so his whole body shielded her from the rain, and Julianna gave him a pleased smile. Yes, he was invading the hell out of her personal space, but that had never bothered her before. And she wanted to know!
    “Hmmm??” she echoed encouragingly, looking up at him.
    Ry grinned and his eyes locked on hers. “You know Julianna, it’s really not fair that you’re so nice. Too sweet for your own good, I bet you’ve heard that a lot before.”
    “Yes I have,” she agreed, eyes still curious but not shifting from Ry’s. “But why is that not fair??”
    “Well, that would fall into my story,” he murmured, leaning down a little, so his face was closer to hers. Julianna was a vampire, and half of something he hadn’t gotten a lot of information on, but she was still young. And so incredibly sweet. A little flex of power, causing his eyes to dilate, and her lips parted. “Why don’t we get a little more comfortable and I can tell you all about it.”
    Eyes had gotten a little hazy by then and Julianna licked her lips. “Okay,” she murmured back, pulling her legs into the car.

    Patrick chuckled again, stretching his legs out beneath the table. “Aye, and I should prob’ly resist doin’ tha’, or ye’ll ne’er get away from work,” he teased. Because if someone was going to talk about their job, Ai wouldn’t be able to resist joining in. Work was life, just about.
    The chuckle turned into a grin at her inquiry, and apt description of him. “Pretty much just tha’, darlin’. I manage tae wrangle Ethan onto ma boat now an’ then, and I see pretty girls whene’er tha mood strikes. Otherwise, just work.” He finished off his glass of wine and smiled at her. “Do I need tae ask what ye do in yer spare time?? /Is/ their spare time in yer world??”

    “I don’t think gods can die,” Gift mused. “I think they’re just off in their little corner, doing what gods /want/ to do and not what they’re ordained to do.”
    “Like playing foosball, and throwing horse shoes,” Christian agreed, smirking at the thought. “Shall we make a new analogy, and say that’s what thunder really is?? Instead of all that bowling shit. Now that’s something I’ve never understood the appeal of.”
    “You roll a ball down a lane,” was Gift’s slow observation. “What’s there to understand??”
    “The /appeal/, not the idea,” Christian corrected, and crossed his eyes at her. Well, his eyes crossed, at least.
    Gift snickered again, then blinked very slowly at Darshan. “I can see you being a gramps,” she finally decided. “Not a grandpa or papa or papi. Nah, Gramps suits you.”
    “You gonna start bouncing Mace on your knee and shit??” Christian inquired, rolling his head on the back of his chair. It wasn’t clear if it was just convenient, or because he wouldn’t be able to lift it.
    Another snicker and Gift downed another shot.

    “I can too,” C.J. chimed in, pride in her voice. “Ask D, he’ll alibi me. It’s just, yanno…yeah.” Another shot.
    Queenie snorted at both of them, then eyeballed Sahar. “I’d play with Wes,” she said sweetly. “And if you were a bear, I think that means /you/ wouldn’t have anyone to play with, so it’s all your own fault in the end.”
    “So maybe we should just let her get laid,” the lone tiger said, most helpfully. “Though it would be pretty funny to try to enforce that rule. I mean, tying her up wouldn’t help, ‘cause she’d just wiggle loose. Forget the gag, she’d chew right through it. Handcuffs, she’s get ideas from those. And if we put her in an empty room at Mace’s house, she’ll send out “I’m in heat!!” signals and have a line of guys trying to free her anyway.”
    Queenie choked on her alcohol.
    Then C.J. was on the floor, laughing her ass off, which was rather bared in her current condition. The waiter tilted his head and got an eye full of black lace bikini and sighed deeply. His ethics were smiting his desires, that was for sure. Refilling the table, he set his tray aside and made a move to help C.J. up, but someone was already there.
    Nostrils flared as the giggles slowly dried up, and C.J. breathed in the scent of pure raw male tiger. Yuuuuuuuuum. Her bum wiggled of its own volition and a throaty chuckle rubbed her ear, before the stripper deposited her in her seat.
    “Ladies,” he said, his voice deep with a growling edge to it. Lazy eyes flickered over each of them. “Having fun tonight??”

    Silence met Irene’s words for a few seconds, as all currently un-hypnotized persons considered them. “I think we should ask their weight in liquor,” Ash finally grunted, and that ended the rather serious contemplation.
    Blaise looked at the ceiling, then pointed a crimson nail down the hall. “Ash, go to your room.” Damon chuckled behind her and the Redfern merely grunted again.
    Though it was hard to tell if the witch had been serious or not, she didn’t push the matter, and sent a silky smile to Irene. “Though I’ve had to be more subtle about it in recent years. It has overall improved my abilities, I imagine.”
    “I’m sure she owns a lot more than that,” Damon said on the subject of Laurie Frost, and there was a dismissive note to his voice. “But yes, tying them to a chair would likely be best. In separate rooms, as they won’t be so stubborn and willing to fight if they’re not aware of the other’s well being. Then we’ll wait for John and Paul to get back and go from there.”
    Blaise shrugged in some form of agreement, and Ash was looking at his hand again. Magically /willing/ the bottle to appear, that was going to work.

    "No probably about it," Anna said, and her voice was firm, making it clear that, while she hadn't fought him on anything else, this was the battle she was choosing. "Whoever he is, he's dangerous, Price. I understand why you would want to go after him..." A shudder traced its way up her spine. "...but I don't want you getting hurt. Please, promise me that you won't do this without someone else there to watch your back. Please." Because she couldn't quite put it into words, but if something bad happened to Price, nothing would ever be okay again.

    Galen looked apologetic, knowing the effect that his warning would have on her but unable to think of another way to phrase it. He nodded when she said that she would call Price after she got out of the bath, mild concern still on his features but satisfied with her answer. "Okay." He smiled weakly at her, and backed out of the room, returning to the bedroom and easing himself down into a chair and rubbing a hand across his brow.

    Cujo was still growling, low and menacing, and Gamble sighed as he regarded the dog. "I know I trained you to guard, but you can't be actin' like this every time she leaves you alone," he told the dog.
    But really, what was the harm? Once the dog was with her, he would calm down, and he couldn't think that either Julianna or her friend would mind a /dog/ listening in on a conversation, no matter how private it was supposed to be. It wasn't like he'd be able to tell anyone about it.
    Shrugging, he reached out and popped open the screen door. "Go on, then," he said, his own eyes traveling up the road to where the car was parked.

    "Yes," Ai agreed pertly, her dark eyes shining, "I'm out to relax." She waved a commanding hand, laughter coloring her voice. "Entertain me, sir."
    His account of events made her smile warmly, because it was just so like Patrick: his boat and pretty girls. His question made her wrinkle her nose at him. "Patrick, I don't work /all/ the time, you know. What's the point of making the money if I don't take the time to enjoy it, once in a while?"

    There was a long, contemplative silence from Darshan's corner of the table, before he blinked slowly at Christian. "You don't like bowling," he said, "but you like... foosball? Little plastic footballers on metal bars kicking each other?"
    There was no way to respond to the relish with which Gift took to the nickname 'gramps,' so Darshan simply directed a grimace at her. Christian's comment, on the other hand, made him shudder. "I will not be bouncing Mace on my knee, or anything else, thank you." He eyed the bottle, and took another swig. "I caught him groping my problem child today. He looked like a teenager caught with his hand down his pants. This grandfather thing may have /some/ advantages."

    "I do not," Sahar said, her words a little slurred, "intend to ask Darshan anythin' about how you bend." The mere thought of doing so prompted her to take another drink, but she brightened considerably at C.J.'s next words. "You have an admirable grasp of the situation," she agreed. "And, you know, tying me up in Mace's house would probably just make it easier for me to get laid. Might as well just issue an open invitation." She tilted her head back, laughing low and throaty at the thought. "Hell, might as well just tattoo 'come and get it, boys' across my ass."
    She was momentarily distracted by the waiter, taking in where his eyes were directed and the look on his face. She caught his eye when he set his tray aside, and smiled wickedly. Men.
    Then a deep, growling voice spoke from the other side of the table, sending delicious tingles down her spine and... somewhat lower. Mmm, sexy tiger. "Always," she replied, leaning back in her seat contentedly and watching as C.J. was placed back in hers.

    It wasn't funny, it was pathetic, and Irene absolutely refused to laugh at the Redfern's suggestion. Blaise's answering comment lacked the pathetic edge, and Irene allowed a smile to slip past the iron control on her features, iron control that didn't show up as a blank mask but a carefully filtered and wholly appropriate display of false emotion.
    "We've all had to be more subtle in recent years," she said, after a moment. "Daybreak," she added, saying the word like it was a sigh. Daybreak would be the reason for the witch's increased subtlety.
    "I'm not sure that being unaware of each other's well being will make them /less/ ready to fight, but we can try separate rooms and see if that works," she said, with a shrug. "Paul Slater, and... John?" That one she actually wasn't familiar with, although she had been supplied with Paul's information while she 'napped.' What worried her about him was that no one seemed to /know/ what he was. John... John had to be the older man who had come off the plane, and she filed that information away for future use.

    Another moment passed, before Price reached one hand up to gently trace a finger down her cheek. “Okay, I promise,” he agreed after another minute. He briefly thought about smiling as well, but he wasn’t sure what that would do to his face, so he just kept it neutral.
    Not that it mattered, since there came a sharp rap on the door before it was pushed open. Three burly men entered the room, carrying duffel bags over shoulders. One had a tarp tucked under his arm. Hard eyes surveyed the room and communication obviously passed, as two went to work while the other came over to the couple.
    “Kee??” he grunted, studying Price’s face. Price merely inclined his head, and the man grunted again. “We’ll clean it and sanitize it. What do you want to do with the body??”
    A muscle jerked slightly in Price’s cheek, but his voice was calm as he said, “Send it to Nordre Mortuary. Make it a John Doe. I’ll see to it later.”
    The man nodded and joined his comrades, and, using her hands as steers, Price took Anna out into the hallway. “Do you have an idea of where you want to go??”

    Even after Galen had left, and she’d sunk back down into the water, the relaxation was gone. Thinking there was something wrong with Price, something that even Galen had picked up on, was enough to make the water feel cold against her skin.
    So, ever practical, Keller got out of the bathtub six minutes later. Unplugging the drain, she dried herself and slipped into one of the complimentary robes. She used the towel to start drying her hair, focusing on her other senses to lead her from the bathroom. Her voice was muffled as she emerged and asked, “Where’s my phone??”

    As soon as the screen door was opened, Cujo shot out and darted like a gray flash of lightning towards the car sitting at the end of Gamble’s driveway.
    Almost, just almost, a look of regret could’ve slipped over Ry’s face as he looked at Julianna. She was still smiling, still looking warm and friendly, and it wasn’t going to be pretty when he started the bad stuff. But that’s what she got for associating with the likes of Ethan Hawke.
    That hardened his resolve, and he smiled at the woman, and gently pushed the car door closed. He got to take one step back and turn to the side when a sudden force slammed into him, knocking him into the car. For one disbelieving moment, he thought maybe it was Oak, having snuck up on him. But then teeth sank into his arm, uneven and sharp and /many/.
    An inevitable yelp jumped from his throat as the fucking dog bit harder on his arm, and he felt his bones threatening to crack under the pressure. Instinct kicked in and his foot lashed out, catching the dog in the belly, and it yelped back. /Around/ his arm. It seemed quite determined not to lose its hold.
    “Stupid /fucking/ dog,” Ry growled, glaring into its furry face. No, he wasn’t into killing animals and he didn’t want to leave a dead dog in Oak’s driveway to cause a ruckus. He was aiming to make it seem casual, Julianna’s sudden leaving with someone who appeared to be a friend, but that didn’t seem like it wanted to happen.
    Then the door bumped him, and the dog growled harsh and low and bit harder into his arm. Ry’s glare deepened even as Julianna jumped from the car. Her eyes were clear and concerned, her brows arched high even as she made a grab for the dog. “Oh Ry, I’m /so/ sorry! I don’t know why he’s being like this. Cujo, come on, let go boy.” Her hands were stroking it as she spoke, and her presence seemed to be the only release factor, because Cujo let go.
    Blood dripped steadily down his arm and he held it with his other hand, looking down in some disgust as the rain washed it to the wet ground. The dog was still fucking growling at him. Glancing up, he saw Julianna was tugging the mutt backwards, looking chagrined. “I guess Gamble let him out to pee and he wanted some attention. I don’t, I mean, he’s not usually so aggressive! Do you want to come back inside and get your arm looked at??”
    “No, that’s okay,” Ry assured her, giving a faint smile. “Vampire, I’m sure it’ll heal up in no time. Though---” He moved just slightly, and the dog tensed, obviously preparing to lunge again. “Okay, that answers that. I’ll catch up with you later, Julianna. When you’re dogless.”
    An apologetic look was shot his way as Julianna began tugging Cujo back towards the house. “Okay, ‘cause I still wanna hear your story. I don’t know what’s gotten into Cujo.”
    Ry nodded and assured her he’d find her later, and watched her tug the dog back towards the house. It kept looking back at him, eyes dark and angry, and it kept so close to Julianna that she tripped over him a few times. Hmmm.

    “Wha’, I’m no’ entertain’ just bein’ me??” Patrick teased, refilling his glass again. The bottle was almost empty and he lifted a hand for another.
    Another low laugh rumbled in their cozy little corner, and he sent an amused glance to her. “Oh I know ye enjoy it, luv. In yer big ‘ouse and yer shiny possessions. But do ya use it tae really /enjoy/ yourself?? Wha‘ was tha last thing ya did just fer fun??”

    “I think it goes back to my male roots,” Christian agreed gravely. “I like the idea of little plastic men kicking the shit out of each other. Bowling, on the other hand, is just you and a ball. I don’t particularly need another one of those.”
    Gift made another almost-choking sound, though she did spare a grin for Darshan’s grimace. Then a short laugh at his words. “I can’t imagine Mace caring if he’s caught with his hand down his pants,” she observed. “Or down anyone else’s, for that matter.”
    “From what I know, I’m inclined to agree,” Christian said with a nod. Or the hint of a nod, since his head seemed glued to the back of his chair. “Mace wouldn’t care if he was caught with other things down someone else’s pants.”
    “You’ve got a fine line of descendants following in your wake,” Gift congratulated Darshan, and took another shot so she wouldn’t laugh.

    “That’s okay,” C.J. cooed. “D and I know the truth, anyway.”
    “Feel free to keep it private,” Queenie mumbled into her glass.
    The tiger made a face at her. “Oh, I know, you only wish you still had the ability to bend like us. It must suck, getting old.”
    “It’s going to suck when you’re drunk off your ass and I leave you here,” the lioness retorted with a wicked smile. “Though I’m sure there are plenty of employees here who’d be happy to take you home.”
    C.J. cooed again, then grinned at Sahar. “I like Queenie’s heat signal idea better. Tattooing is hard, and I don’t think you’d want that permanently on your ass.”
    “Then again, this /is/ Sahar,” Queenie pointed out. “Though it would be interesting to see who won out, ‘cause obviously Mace would say don’t go near her, but would the guys be able to resist??”
    “Would they disobey Mace??” C.J. asked curiously.
    “For sex…” Queenie shrugged.
    Then the proof of the bending thing came up, and the waiter gave a good-natured shrug to Sahar. They were all hot, couldn’t blame a guy for looking. The stripper looked like he wanted to do a lot more than look though, and his fingers lingered against the bare skin at C.J.’s side. The bad part, she didn’t even seem to notice, now that she saw all of the new shots in front of her.
    Smiling, the stripper looked at the others. Queenie offered him a toast and he chuckled again. “Any great plans for the night??”

    “Daybreak,” Blaise agreed on a sigh of her own. Ash muttered something incomprehensible but undeniably rude under his breath. Not looking like he cared much either way, Damon just studied Irene again.
    When Irene inquired about John, Ash grunted something else and ambled down the hall, back to his room. Looked like he didn’t want to play anymore.
    “Black John,” Blaise was the one to offer, shaking her head after her cousin. “A renowned witch in some circles, but not too well known in Daybreak.” Reaching over, she pushed open one of the empty doors and steered the little female into it. “Did you say they’re ballet dancers??”

    "Thank you," Anna said, her voice gone soft with relief. Her hands dropped down from his face, going to rest instead on his shoulders. Anything else she might have said was forgotten when the three men came into the room. Once again, she grew silent, simply listening as the men and Price discussed what needed to be done with the body. She was silent, but she saw the muscle in Price's jaw jump, and that worried her too.
    She was steered out into the hall, and his question made her pause, thinking. "I think I have an idea," she said. A faint smile ghosted around her mouth, then crumpled and disappeared. "I'll leave you my car. I can probably get someone to pick me up here, and if I'm not leaving for school or work, I don't need it."

    At Keller's question, Galen lifted his head from where it was resting against the back of his chair. He looked at her for a moment, then pushed himself out of the chair and walked back to the bedside table, where he had left both of their phones. He picked hers up, turned it back on, then crossed back to her, offering it mutely.

    The yelp of a dog from the driveway made Gamble tense, and a moment later he was out the door, long legs eating up the ground as he went down the porch steps and down the drive. He was soaked within seconds of stepping out from under the porch roof, his jeans turning dark with rain and his button-down shirt gone almost transparent.
    He drew to a stop next to Julianna, who seemed to be pulling an irate Cujo towards the house. He reached out a hand to pat the dog on the head, a silent reassurance, before lifting his eyes to Ry.
    "He got you, did he?" he called out, because even if the rain had washed away the blood, he could smell the faint traces of it lingering through the heavy scent of ozone.

    "You said it, not me," Ai replied, a teasing smile lurking at the corners of her mouth. She emptied the last of the wine into her glass as he signaled for a new bottle.
    "I go to the theater, sometimes," she said, "and I try to do a little sightseeing whenever I go somewhere new." No need to say that any traveling she did was probably business related. She smiled up at him. "I visit friends. I go to the spa.” Because her time in the Barbary Coast and the time that followed it with Adam had taught her that beauty was an asset, and as such, should be maintained. Not that she had to worry about it much, being a vampire, but it was nice to be pampered and even a vampire could use a haircut or a manicure once in a while.

    Darshan made a rude sound in the back of his throat, but he looked amused. "Very violent. Do you watch boxing as well, or do you prefer the bloodless sport of foosball?" There was a glimmer of laughter in his eyes, because obviously Christian had never had a problem with the sight of blood.
    "It would seem he cares when I'm there," he said simply, with an almost evil edge of satisfaction to his voice. Another grimace. "Sahar doesn't." He cast Gift a sideways glance when she congratulated him, and sighed. "At the very least, he's making sure that I have descendants," he said dryly. "Personally though, I blame his great-great-great... however many greats... grandmother."

    "I would never regret a tattoo like that," Sahar said, wiggling in her seat. "Then I wouldn't even need to chew through the gag. Just bend over." She merely looked smug when Queenie speculated about whether or not the gang would disobey Mace for sex. She would bet that she could convince a few of them to forget any promises made to Mace.
    The waiter's shrug made her laugh, and her mouth bloomed into wicked little smile at the dancer's question. "Jailbreak," she sang out. "This was our great plan," she added.

    Irene looked after Ash and sighed, and said nothing. "Black John," she murmured, and the name clicked. "Isn't he dead?" she wondered. "Several times over?" The last time had been in the seventies, if she recalled. Information was her coin for trade, after all, and it was nice to be able to add a face to the name. She wondered idly if he had the same face every time he resurrected.
    When Blaise said that he was renowned in some circles, but not Daybreak, Irene flashed her a quick smile. "I'm not Daybreak," she said, by way of explanation.
    "Ballet dancers," she confirmed, watching as the witch steered the human girl into a room. "Brother and sister. They've become very well known, in the past year or two."

    In the hall, Price merely nodded. “Make sure you’re never alone, and you don’t come in contact with anyone you don’t know.” Right now, he hated the fact that Anna was human. Weak-willed and pliable, able to be taken over with a single thought. Especially from the kind of being who’d done this. “Stay there until I contact you again. Or Mom does.” There was the faint wish that he could put her with his mom and Daybreak, since they’d promised to be safe for all of its people, but he couldn’t do that. Endanger the two most important women in his life, when there was the possibility he could protect one.

    Letting the towel drape around her neck, her hair hanging damp and tangled down her back, Keller took her phone just as mutely. A bit of concern dipped through her eyes as she looked at Galen, before she tapped in the speed dial for her son’s phone.

    Ry continued looking after woman and dog, and wasn’t surprised when man came running up. It was a nice picture, he thought idly, if unrealistic.
    When a hand dipped into her view, Julianna looked up at Gamble and gave a sheepish smile. Her hold didn’t loosen on Cujo, because the schnauzer kept jerking slightly, as if wanting to take another bite at Ry. She really didn’t understand the dog’s animosity towards the other vampire. He’d been perfectly nice and polite.
    Gamble’s voice calling out to him seemed to reinforce a memory. Cujo. The dog’s name was Cujo. Ry smiled and flexed his fingers, as the dog bite was already starting to heal up. “Just the forearm,” he called back to the vampire. “Dogs don’t seem to like me, for some reason. Maybe they know I’m a cat person.”
    Cujo growled some more and Julianna’s fingers tightened around his collar.

    “Yer supposed tae contradict me,” Patrick said, with mock-disapproval coloring his voice. “Why didja ‘ave tae just go an’ ruin ma self-esteem, luv?? All I’ve e’er done is try tae be good tae ya.”
    Listening attentively to her list of “fun” activities, he had to shake his head. “Luv, o’ all tha things ye could do fer fun, ya pick four. One as “sometimes,” one while no doubt travelin’ fer work, and one yer supposed tae do an’way. Though ye spendin’ all day in a spa makes ma smile.” And he did, as the waiter arrived with another bottle. Patrick took it and waved him away, letting it rest in the chilled bowl while they finished their current glasses.

    Christian grinned. “It’s not that I prefer the bloodless sport of foosball, but I do prefer being apart of the bloodletting. So no, boxing’s never been my thing either.”
    “So much testosterone for a single person,” Gift smirked, downing another shot. She just barely managed to get it back to the table before it slipped from her fingers. The Karnee metabolism was a thing of legend among acquaintances, but even it had to take a wet breather considering how much alcohol Gift had poured over it.
    “Yeah, well, I don’t really like football itself either,” Christian admitted. “Guys in tights jumping all over each other doesn’t do anything for me.”
    A pause. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard a guy admit that’s all football is. Congratulations, Christian.”
    Lifting a glass in a toast, Christian tipped more liquor behind his lips.
    “I think you should take as much advantage of that as possible,” Gift decided, when Darshan said Mace cared about him being in the vicinity. “Payback for the gramps thing, however accurate it may be.”
    “Vicious,” Christian observed.
    A wicked look slid in the dragon’s direction. “Well, considering whose ass he was feeling up earlier, it seems pretty obvious who’s going to be carrying your future descendants.”
    And this time, it was Christian who choked on another shot.

    “You just have to do that now anyway,” C.J. said blithely, waving a careless hand around. Because, really, men wouldn’t refuse if a woman was bending over for them. It went against the grain.
    “You’re such a ho,” was Queenie’s comment, as she saw the smug look on Sahar’s face. “Do you have any standards?? Or do they just need to be pretty??”
    “Jailbreak, huh,” the stripper said, resting a hand on the back of C.J.’s chair as he continued looking around. “Surely you can’t intend to use your whole break up here. Any other ideas in mind??”

    “Several times over,” Blaise agreed, giving a delicate shrug of her shoulders. “He likes to come back. Who can blame him.” The interest had faded from her voice by the last word. Seemed dead guys who could reanimate themselves didn’t warrant a lot of attention.
    Though Irene’s admission did get a silky smile. “Good to know,” she murmured.
    Damon smiled.
    “I need the handcuffs,” Blaise tossed over her shoulder as she pushed the human into a chair. “And ballet is admirable. A lot harder than most people think, I’m sure.” Eyes floated lazily to the boy. “Great body.”
    With decidedly no comment, Damon went to Frost’s room. A few quick brushes of his fingers and it swung in, emitting him into the silent darkness.

    "I'll never be alone," Anna said, with maybe a hint of wryness to her voice, the cogs obviously still turning in her head. "I'll be safe, Price. You don't need to worry about me, on top of everything else." She reached up again, running a light hand over his shoulder, mostly for lack of something else to do. "You'll call me if there's anything I can do?" she asked softly. A faint smile on her lips again, but it held little humor and was more than a little self-deprecating. "I know I'm pretty much useless, but if you need to book a hotel or cook something, I'm your girl." No one liked to feel useless in a situation like this, no matter how true it happened to be.
    The sound of his phone buzzing made her jump, mostly because nothing good had come of it today.

    "Hmm," Gamble said, the faintest bit of skepticism coloring his eyes. He reached down to pat the dog on the head again. "Ease up, boy," he muttered, but with the faintest hint of a command in his voice. "Juli is going to take you inside now." He glanced up and met her eyes, clearly asking her to do just that. Someone needed to take Cujo inside, before he either injured himself or got loose and tore Ry a new one.

    "I think it would take more than that to bruise your ego, Mr. Redwood," Ai laughed. She reached up briefly to touch his cheek again. "You have always been good to me, though."
    She sighed softly, and took another sip of her drink. "Since my list of fun activities doesn't meet your approval, what would you suggest I do?" she asked wryly. "I'm sure you have a few ideas about how to have fun."

    "There does seem to be an unhealthy fixation with balls, tight pants, and strange shoes in today's sports," Darshan mused, and celebrated this deep thought with another drink from his bottle of tequila.
    He directed a toothy grin at Gift. "I think I should," he agreed. "I can knock on his door at inopportune moments, and say his name in a disapproving tone. Of course, if I do keep him from enjoying himself thusly, I think he'll get over it relatively quickly. Not even I can overcome Mace's libido in the long term."
    He didn't choke when she suggested Sahar as a future mother, but he did make a little whimpering sound in the back of his throat.

    "The woman has a point," Sahar said, in response to C.J. She just shrugged when Queenie called her a ho, and gave serious consideration to her question. "Pretty isn't so much a requirement, although a nice body is... nice. I have to at least kind of like him." Obvious, the standard for liking was pretty loose for those men she took home after knowing them a few hours. "I actually like things that last a little longer than a night. It's good when you know a person." Her tone implied that the word "know" was to be taken in the biblical sense.
    "Sounds like you're trying to get rid of us," she teased the stripper, with the same light flirting that came as easily as breathing to her. She cast a glance at Queenie, and grinned. "I was sort of thinking about getting a tattoo."

    "He likes to come back," Irene repeated, and shook her head. Honestly, she hadn't heard of anything like that before, and hadn't entirely believed it when she had first come upon information about the witch. But it would be something to look into, especially since she couldn't see Blaise getting taken in by some story.
    "It's supposed to be very... challenging," she informed the other woman, and this time her smile bordered on a smirk. She reached out and daintily drew up the corner of the man's t-shirt, careful not to touch skin, exposing a well-muscled abdomen. "Quite so," she admitted, letting the shirt fall back into place.
    Frost hadn't so much unpacked as emptied her suitcases on the floor. Clothing was strewn everywhere, much of it negligee, or things that resembled negligee. There was a diamond tennis bracelet tossed carelessly in one corner, and a pile of spray paint cans in various colors near the dresser. There was also one pair of handcuffs visible in the jumble, studded leather with what looked like red faux fur lining the insides.

    “I’ll worry anyway,” Price assured her, with maybe the slightest hint of humor to his voice. “I always worry. About everyone.” The fact that this was happening now, to people /he/ cared about, just made it worse. And, as always, it would only get even worse before it began to get better.
    A little smile forced its way to his lips when her hand ran down his arm. “I will. I’ll keep you updated on things, so you’ll know when it’s safe to resume your normal routines. Just, please don’t, until I say so.” Because if something like what had happened to Jon happened to Anna…
    His phone ringing against his side made his face freeze, and he gingerly drew it out. It was a relief and not entirely unsuspected when he saw his mother’s number, and after a moment of consideration, he pressed the silent button and replaced it.

    Cujo gave a little growl but relaxed a little at the command in Gamble’s voice. Julianna ran her fingers down his wiry fur, concern still clouding her features even as she nodded in agreement. “Sure, I’ll take him inside,” she agreed, shooting another apologetic look to Ry. Who just smiled again. His arm wasn’t bleeding anymore, she was glad to note.
    Tugging gently, she was relieved to see the dog seemed inclined to follow her now. He even licked her hand as she guided him back to the house, only to find the other dogs pressed up against the screen. “You bunch of gossips,” she observed, using her leg to hold them back as she ushered Cujo in. “Don’t you be causing so much trouble now. And Cujo, what’s the matter with you??”
    Even as she spoke, her fingers were scratching his ears, and a doubtful look was starting to creep over her face.
    Having watched Julianna’s departure, with the aptly named dog, Ry turned his attention to Gamble. The skepticism had been hard to miss there and he had to wonder what was to come.

    “Well, aye,” Patrick agreed with a chuckle. He wasn’t an insecure man. It took a lot to threaten his ego. “An’ I’ll always be good tae ya, luv.” Leaning into her caress, he smiled warmly at her.
    “Wha’ would I suggest,” he murmured in thought. “Well, since this is Vegas, I can see ya playin’ at the black jack tables. Maybe rakin’ in some roulette.” Another smile. “Best way tae spend yer money.”

    “Is there a sport in today’s world that doesn’t involve excess balls??” Christian asked, seemingly genuinely curious.
    “Um,” Gift said. That seemed all she could contribute, as she downed another drink.
    Christian hmmmed at that and shrugged and picked up another shot himself.
    “No, I don’t think anything can keep Mace’s libido down for very long,” Gift agreed with the dragon. Her words weren’t slurred and she sounded calm and collected, but there was such careful pronunciation that it was almost a sure thing that they’d be slurred if she didn’t think about them. “And he’ll become immune to your interruptions after a while. You should save them for really special occasions.”
    “Cruel, very cruel,” Christian said, though not like he disapproved.
    Gift smiled at the sound Darshan made. “Oh, it’s not like you haven’t adopted her anyway. Might as well make it official. They can get married and have three kids and both will settle down. Your line will continue, Darshan. Isn’t that what every guy wants??”
    Before Darshan had the chance to reply, there can a rhythmic tapping at the door. A croon filtered under the doorjamb as both Gift and Christian looked over. “Heeeelllloooo, what’re you doing in there??”

    “I like when I like pretty boys,” C.J. chirped. “Makes things so much better. I like pretty boys. Is that bad??”
    “That means you’re superficial,” Queenie said gravely, gold eyes twinkling.
    “Is that bad??” the tiger inquired.
    Queenie snorted. “Doesn’t matter, in your case. Not like you’re leaving your dragon anytime soon.”
    “Oh, yes,” her friend replied, quite happily, and went on with her life.
    The elder lioness rolled her eyes and looked at Sahar. “And you. Well, I can’t argue with that. It’s nice to have a steady “friend” on the side, that way you don’t have to be surprised by unwelcome deformities or something on the next guy.”
    C.J. made mmm-mmm sounds.
    The stripper smiled lazily at the women. “No, not at all. You’re just distracting my dancers. Not fair that you’re so pretty and not on stage yourselves.”
    “Flatterer,” C.J. accused, but she seemed pleased. Could be the three shots she’d just downed. Big glazed eyes looked at Sahar. “You gonna get the “poke here” tattoo??”
    “’Poke here’??” the stripper felt inclined to clarify.
    Queenie snorted.

    Blaise just shrugged at Irene’s words, though her eyes did linger on the bared male’s belly. “Seems to do a body good. Better than that milk fad, anyway.” Her gaze did stay on the female as well, making sure she didn’t seem inclined to suddenly shake it off and go about her way. Or start screaming. That was so annoying.
    Not giving much of a passing glance over the room’s state, Damon zeroed in on the handcuffs and collected them neatly from the mess. He didn’t even seem phased by their appearance, only interested in their practicality. Though it did seem even a human could break them. They’d see how it went.
    “Only one pair,” he stated when he returned to the hall. “Who should we give them to??”

    "I'll wait for your word before coming out of hiding," Anna replied. "I know better than to try any heroics. Keep me informed, though, okay? Not just so I know when it's safe, but so that I know /you're/ safe."
    Her eyes flicked down to his phone, and she saw when he flicked the silence button. "Your mother," she guessed, and there might have been a disapproving note to her voice. "She's not going to appreciate being kept in the dark about this, Price. Not any more than I would."

    Gamble waited while Julianna guided the dog into the house, his thumbs tucked into his belt loops, his posture easy, not seeming to mind the rain at all. In spite of this, the open friendliness was gone from him, his face closed and thoughtful.
    "I think you might should be gettin' off my property, son," he said, after a moment. No point in beating around the bush. "I trained Cujo myself. He wouldn't go after a man for no good reason."

    "I never doubted it," Ai said, with a soft smile. "In your own way, you like taking care of people as much as I do."
    "I'm not big on gambling, although I suppose I could play a couple hands of poker... take in the local flavor." She finished her glass of wine, and set it down on the table. "Perhaps I'll go see a show, if I have the time. And... there is that boy at the airport." The last wasn't really fun, but it was something she would be doing.

    "Come the apocalypse, the last cockroach will be run over by the last VW Bug, and in the back seat of that VW Bug, Mace will be having sex," Darshan muttered blearily, swishing the tequila around in its bottle. Where he had picked up that particular bit of wisdom was anyone's guess.
    "Then again, the apocalypse has already come and gone," he added, and took a drink. Gift's suggestion simply made him smirk, and then snort when she spoke of his line continuing. "If I had been sterile, I'd be a happy man," he grumbled.
    Then the tapping started.
    He let his head fall back, and watched as the room tilted ever-so-pleasantly. "Go away, Koran."

    "Pretty boys are pretty," seemed to be all that Sahar had to offer.
    "That's so sweet," she crooned to the sexy tiger, a big grin on her face. Because when you were a distraction to men who danced around naked for a living, you knew that you were in the big leagues.
    The grin only widened at C.J.'s question, but she shook her head mournfully. "Eye of Ra strike me down if I ever take home anyone so hopeless that he needs directions," she slurred.

    "Mmm-mmm good," Irene drawled, but seemed content to leave it at that. Her gaze followed Blaise's, but the young woman still seemed as deeply entranced as her brother. All the same... "We're going to have to watch that one," she murmured. "She keeps fighting my control. Will of iron." Wouldn't guess it to look at her.
    She plucked the cuffs out of Damon's hands when he returned to the hall, pulling on them gently to test their strength. They didn't give, and she grunted softly in satisfaction. "Only buckles, no lock, but that won't matter if we tie the hands behind the back. The man? The girl we can still tie up with whatever in on hand... nylons, or a tie if you have one." She couldn't really see him in a tie, but it didn't hurt to ask.

    Price inclined his head an inch. “Yes, I’ll keep you informed, like I said. If anything comes up, I’ll call you about it.” Or if something came up and he was unable to call, someone else would. But Anna would know, because she needed to. She was too vulnerable and already too deep in it for her to be safe in the dark.
    Sliding the phone back into his pocket, black eyes looked back at her. “Right now, what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. She has Galen and all of Daybreak there to protect her, if need be. If she finds out about this, she’s going to plunge head-first into it, and we can’t have that.”

    A muscle twitched in Keller’s jaw when the phone finally transferred her to Price’s voice mail, and she left a short message. “Price. Call me.”
    Switching it off, she looked up at Galen. “I have to presume he’s ignoring me.” The tightness of her jaw and the look in her eyes demonstrated how much she disliked that fact.

    Ah. Well, that could cause a problem in the long run. They had his name and didn’t seem to think he was friendly anymore. Word of mouth was going to spread.
    Ry considered that, as he slowly flexed his fingers. They were working fine, the skin smooth and even where teeth marks had once been. Only the blood staining his shirt sleeve proved anything had even happened. Honestly, there wasn’t much he could do right now anyway. It would take more force that he felt like to wrangle Julianna out and back into his car, and he wasn’t fancying the thought of getting bit again. Stupid dogs.
    “Am I to assume calling tomorrow morning would do me little good??” he asked mildly, studying the other vampire.

    Another smile, at Ai’s thoughts on his protective instincts. “In ma own way. Though it takes a lot more fer people tae get into ma protective sphere than it does yers, luv.”
    A brief nod of approval, as he refilled her glass. “Aye, I’ll accept that. Take in tha sights, go tae a few shows. Visit wit’ Gift.” He set the bottle aside again. “An’ aye, tha’ boy. Wha’ was ‘is name??”

    Gift looked at Darshan for a moment. “Why a VW bug??”
    “And do you imagine he’ll be having sex with someone else, or himself??” Christian asked lazily.
    “I bet he was having it with himself when the old apocalypse hit,” Gift muttered, and downed another shot. The whirring of the refrigerator suddenly became quite loud and she frowned at it.
    “What about C.J.??” Christian pointed out. “Would she be happy if you were sterile??”
    A little shudder shook Gift’s shoulders. “The thought of C.J. pregnant worries me,” she admitted, licking lips that were only a little numb.
    Then the tapping. All eyes shifted and rolled towards the doors, and Gift chuckled as Darshan replied. “You shouldn’t have done that, he’ll never go away now,” she murmured, as if Koran could hear them.
    It appeared he could. “But Iiiiiiiii wanna knooooooow,” he sing-songed, fingers scratching at the dragon-barred door.
    “Can he come through your wards??” Christian asked curiously, head never lifting from his chair. /He/ knew what would happen when he finally did, and he was prolonging it as much as possible. Less his companions laugh at him.

    “Preeeeetty,” C.J. sighed happily, and finished off her shots.
    The tiger grinned at Sahar. “I bet if you get up on that stage, my dancers will tip you everything they’ve gotten tonight.”
    “Don’t tempt her,” Queenie warned. “Or you’ll have both of them up there, and you’ll never get them down again.”
    “Unless we fall off,” C.J. agreed cheerfully. Because, drunk or stoned, she still knew the truth. Usually.
    “Guess that upsets your standards, huh??” Queenie snorted at the younger lioness, grinning. “That being about it, aside from the whole nice body and /knowing/ them thing.”
    Head swiveling, looking down at herself, C.J. mumbled, “I could use another tattoo. I don’t have one on my ass either.”
    “You do have quite a nice selection though,” the waiter complimented as he reappeared. With more drinks!
    C.J. sighed happily again.

    “With a brother as protective as he seemed to be, I don’t blame her,” Blaise murmured, eyeing the girl. “But put Ash or Damon in the same room with her, and she’ll soon lose her will anyway. No big deal.”
    When Damon returned, the witch shrugged in agreement with Irene. Damon merely looked at the women, his obvious answer, and Blaise sighed deeply. “You’re going to make me sacrifice my good hose, aren’t you??”
    “I don’t wear ties,” was Damon’s calm response. “You’re welcome to browse through Paul’s room, but he might take it personally.”
    Blaise sighed again.

    "Thank you," Anna said, softly. She shook her head when he spoke about Keller, a frown flickering across her lips and fading almost as quickly as it had come. "What she doesn't know can hurt her a lot, Price, and if you're afraid that it's after me, it might very well be after her. Shouldn't you at least tell Galen, or one of the women on her team? So they /can/ protect her, if need be? As it stands, Galen and Daybreak don't even know that she needs protecting."
    Then her expression grew abstracted, and she turned her head back towards the door, as if she could see through the wall, see the blood-soaked apartment within. "Price, why would someone be after me or your mother?" she asked, after a moment. "Why Jon?" It hadn't occurred to her before this, but there was something strange in that. Why had Jon, who was a Daybreaker to be certain but just as human as she was, be eliminated in such a gruesome way?

    The tick in Keller's jaw and her curt message made Galen's frown resurface, his eyes dark and concerned. "It seems likely," he said, not sounding too happy himself, "since he answered my call not ten minutes ago. Do you want to try to call one of his team? Or Anna?"

    "I don't reckon so," Gamble said slowly, shoulders relaxed in a slump but eyes intent on Ry. "Being as I'm not sure that you wouldn't bite the hand that fed you." Or shoot him with the gun that he had made. "You might have heard, I'm a bit choosy about who I sell to." The corner of his mouth twisted up into a wry almost-smile. "And my dogs didn't like you." Really, that should have been the first sign of trouble. Cujo's attack had been the end of it, because not one of his dogs would attack unless there was some kind of danger. They knew better than that.
    "You gonna go peaceably?" he asked, just as mildly.

    "You're right," Ai said, sounding mildly chagrined. "Last I checked, 'breathing and pathetic' was requirement enough. Sometimes not even the first."
    "I'm glad you approve," she teased. She paused to consider, swirling the wine thoughtfully in her glass. "Varian," she said, the name that she had gleaned from his mind. A name to go with the scent and the look, all that she would need to track him down, even in a city of this size. "Varian Desces."

    "I don't know," Darshan said, sounding faintly bemused. "I heard someone say it, once. The last cockroach will be run over by a VW Bug."
    "Himself," he told Christian wisely, nodding in agreement with Gift. "Then he'll have to find another survivor, and convince her that they need to repopulate the world." Then he stopped, and the look that he sent Christian was filled with horror. "My friend, I sincerely believe that the day will never come when C.J. decides to be a mother. And I hope that it never does." As if to wash away that thought in the pleasant haze of alcohol, he tipped back his head and downed the last of the bottle of tequila, swaying dangerously in his chair as he did so.
    "No," he said bluntly, "he cannot. But he's going to be quite an annoyance until he gets his way."
    Daringly, he stood up. Then he sat down again, as the room stopped merely tilting and did a somersault. His second try went much more smoothly, and he teetered across the kitchen, nearly collapsing against the front of the refrigerator when he made it there and knocking most of the magnets onto the floor. He jerked the refrigerator door open, with more force than was strictly necessary.
    Then he stared, dumbfounded, at the door, which was now hanging by one hinge.
    "Huh," he said. After a moment, he recovered, and reached into the fridge to pull out a box of wine coolers. The door was left hanging open, and he made his way, slowly and precariously, back towards the kitchen door.
    Once there, Darshan paused, visibly gathering himself together. His back straightened, he planted his feet, and used his free hand to pat his rumpled hair back into order. Then he - carefully - opened the door, and deposited the wine coolers into Koran's arms. "We are strategizing," he said. "Go away, Koran."
    He slammed the door. Then he set his back against it, and slid down slowly, until his butt was resting firmly against the ground.

    "Wait, wait, wait," Sahar said, waving a hand at Queenie. "Don't be so hasty, now. I /am/ out of a job, remember, until I am no longer under house arrest, and can return to my life as a thespian."
    To her credit, the word 'thespian' only made her snicker a little.
    She rolled her eyes towards Queenie, and grinned lazily. "Well, I don't have to know them all that well," she commented, and managed to make it sound more like a slow drawl and less like she was slurring every word. C.J.'s comment made her nod wisely. "I'm sure that Darshan would be happy to see a new one. He would have to... examine... it closely. Very closely. And at great length, knowing you two."

    "Her will probably isn't all she'll loose," Irene muttered, but left it at that. She would save the girl's life, if she could. It wasn't her job to save her virtue, too.
    Julianna would be so disappointed. The thought didn't even make her pause. Julianna would, no doubt, be disappointed by a lot of the things that Irene said and did.
    "I think that I will refrain," she said, with a soft snort. "Just one moment. I might have something in my luggage." She turned back to the door to her hotel room, disappearing inside.

    The outpouring of questions didn't change the calm neutrality of Price's expression. It didn't lighten his eyes either though. And he didn't respond, simply reaching up to trail another light finger down the side of her face. "You'd better call your friends. They're almost done in there." Because there was nothing he could tell her that would lessen her worry. And whatever she was forced to imagine likely couldn't be worse than the truth.

    Seeming to forget that it was still quite damp down her back, Keller ran an agitated hand through her tangled hair. "I hate having to check up on him," she growled softly, glaring at her phone. "He knows better than to do this kind of stuff now." All the same, she pulled up Anna's number from her contact list and dialed. Right now, at this point, she just needed an answer to /what/ was going on.

    At Gamble's words, Ry couldn't stop his eyes from flicking over the vampire to gaze at his house. And not because of the potential leverage inside, oh no. Because he'd heard what Gamble's house was like. Walls upon walls of hand-crafted weapons.
    A shame he'd likely never get into it. A real shame.
    "No," he finally said, looking back at the other vampire. "There are some hands you never bite. But it's understandable." A faint grin curved his lips. "That one caught me by surprise too; dogs usually like me. I hate cats. I commend you on that, they do seem remarkably well-trained."
    His final question made Ry's eyes inevitably flicker back to the house, and this time it was for the more obvious reason. But, as deducted before, there just wasn't a lot he could do here right now. "Yeah," he murmured, flexing his fingers again. His voice was still mild, a half-grin tilting his lips, but his eyes were flat when he again looked back at Gamble. "That's a special woman, Mr. Oak. Make sure she gets dry." Arm dropping back to his side, he inclined his head politely at Gamble, then ambled through the drenching rain around to the driver's side of his car. Tonight hadn't been a total waste, at least. Interesting, nonetheless.

    Laughing again, Patrick shook his head. "Oh luv, I think ye've got some problems. Yer protective circle keeps expandin'." Reaching over, he touched her hair gently. "As much as I know ya'd love tae, I dun think ye can save tha entire world."
    The laughter eased into another smile at her teasing, which didn't fade entirely when she divulged the name of her intended rescuee. He took another sip of wine and let the liquid linger on his tongue for a minute before swallowing. "No' local, aye??"

    Gift gave a little grunt and poured herself another shot. Most of it made it into the glass. "I can understand that. A little. Fuckin' VW Bugs are ugly as anything, I guess."
    She smirked at the idea of Mace playing with himself in a Bug while running over the last remaining cockroach, and Christian just shook his head. "I'm sensing some serious...I don't know, something, between you guys and Mace," he observed, eyelids drooping in a slow blink. "Something I should know about??"
    "I like Mace," Gift said with a shrug. "He's really good on a bad day. Entertainment wise, for that matter."
    Christian got to smirk this time, which only deepened when horror overtook Darshan's features. "Uh oh, do I sense a smirch on C.J.'s ability to handle motherhood??"
    "I sense a smirch on C.J.'s ability to stay sober and drug free while even being pregnant, much less into motherhood," Gift chuckled. "Great girl though she is, of course, she does have her vices."
    "Don't we all," Christian said, toasting that with another freshly opened bottle.
    They both watched as Darshan's chair swayed. "If he falls, it's your turn to pick him up," Gift muttered to Christian.
    "No it's not."
    "Well whatever, you're closer."
    "Shit."
    Which made the following demonstration from the dragon even more funny. Gift snickered around her glass as her friend swayed and stumbled around the kitchen. She didn't mention the little crack she heard when he suddenly plopped back into his chair, because she did want to see if it would break under him were he to find it again tonight. Or on some unlucky soul tomorrow. That might actually be funnier.
    "Those things are so gross," Christian grunted when Darshan retrieved the wine coolers. Then they both shared a snicker as their friend composed himself, then took a moment to do themselves as well before he opened the door. All they heard was Koran's pleased squealing when the brightly colored wannabe-alcohol exchanged hands, then Darshan was on the floor.
    Christian's head had rolled to the side, still planted firmly on the back of his chair. Gift's head tilted, where her ear was touching her shoulder, and squinted her eyes slightly at the sitting dragon. "God, just watching him has made me dizzy."
    Christian grinned and took another shot. It felt like water now. "He's fallen, and he can't get up."

    The word 'thespian' had C.J. not quite so elegantly cracking up with snickers and giggles in her seat, as that was pretty much the only thing of the conversation she'd really gotten.
    Queenie rolled her eyes. "Honey, this ain't the place you need to be if you want to make a buck on the stage. You'd need to find a girlie bar or something."
    "I think she could get away with personal shows," the stripper observed, eyes running lazily over Sahar again. "Definitely."
    "Flatterer," C.J. crooned, beaming up at him.
    A sigh pushed out of Queenie's chest towards the younger lioness, but her gold eyes were dancing. "You're such a slut. Why didn't you ever get into the professional game, so you can get paid for doing what you love so much??"
    "Mmmmmmm," C.J. said helpfully, though it was hard to tell what she was making noises about anyway. "Yes, yes he would. He'd want to make sure it's permanent too, by running his---"
    "Okay, thank you," Queenie interrupted, holding up her hand. "I've got a nice buzz going on and C.J. seems pretty lit, so if you want to get a tattoo," she eyed Sahar, "we'd better get on with it. It's going to take a while if both of you are getting one."
    "I know some good parlors still open," the waiter offered, as he gave C.J. more shots. And more, and more, and more...

    Blaise chuckled richly. "Oh, it probably will. Ash hasn't found anything arousing except his bottles lately, and Damon...well, he prefers more of a challenge." A quick look-over of the girl proved how much of a challenge Blaise thought she'd be.
    When Irene offered to get something from her room, Blaise looked over at Damon. "Are we to assume that means she has handcuffs in her luggage as well??"
    "I'm quite interested in finding out."

    For just a moment, Anna's calm faltered, a hint of irritation flickering through her eyes before she smothered it. "Don't put me off, Price," she said, voice tight and soft, not angry but obviously very carefully controlled. "I'm not a child and I'm not your /mother/. This involves me now, and I have the right to ask why."
    It took her a moment to realize that the soft buzzing of a phone was coming from the pocket of her jacket, and not from Price. She took it out, her expression turning briefly quizzical, before she flipped it open and looked at the caller ID. Then her mouth firmed into a line, and she pressed a button before holding the phone up to her ear. "Hello, Keller."

    "He's young," was all that Galen said. Young, as young as he and Keller had been once, and still so sure that he could fix everything all on his own. Galen closed his eyes tiredly for a moment, then opened them when his sensitive ears caught the faint ghost of a response from the phone.

    A one-shouldered shrug. "Cujo is real fond of Julianna," Gamble said. "So am I." There was a warning there, but the tone of voice was so mild that one had to be listening for it to realize.
    "I know it," he replied, easily. He watched as Ry walked around to the driver's side of his car, and inclined his head slightly. "You have a nice evenin', Mr. Densevetti." His eyes remained fixed on Ry, obviously wanting to make sure that the other man would do as he said and leave.
    Not that he really doubted it. It was a pity, really; if he hadn't been so sure that Ry was up to something, Gamble rather thought that he might have been a good person to get to know.

    "I am going to live a long time," Ai joked. "I might." Then she grew serious, taking a sip of her wine and trailing a delicate finger along the rim of her glass. "We do what we can," she murmured.
    "I would guess he's from my neck of the woods, actually," she replied. "Which makes me wonder how he got here."

    Darshan was momentarily silent after Gift said that she liked Mace. Then he shrugged. "I don't dislike Mace." Then he lifted a brow. "The only thing I'm besmirching is C.J.'s desire to have children, and my own. You people do leap to some awful conclusions. Tch tch." He smirked as he said it, showing a little bit of tooth.
    "Don't need picking up," he mumbled, much less coherently, before he made his trip across the kitchen. All too soon, he found himself on his ass near the kitchen door. He slumped down a little further, and blinked upwards. At least there were no lights, except for the one coming from the open refrigerator, now that the kitchen was lacking a ceiling. Lights were always too bright when he got to the too-drunk-to-walk stage of the evening. This was nice.
    He was distracted from his musings by Christian's comment. "You're right," he said. "Roll me that bottle of gin, would you?"

    "Okay, so we make our next stop a titty bar," Sahar said, with a shrug.
    She smiled brightly at the stripper, pleased, then shrugged again at Queenie's question. "Didn't seem right, charging for something I'd do for free. Besides, I like saying who, when, where, and how... And I've never been so down on my luck that I /have/ to do it." Another shrug. "Besides, I like being on the stage, and I'm good at it. Of course, you could ask me that again in a couple months when my bank account is empty. It'll probably sound a whole lot better then."
    She just covered her ears when C.J. started to talk about Darshan. Juvenile, but it seemed like the safest course of action.
    "One second," she said, and downed the last of her drink. "Okay, we can go now." She beamed at the waiter when he said that he knew of a few places. "Oooh, you're just my favorite person tonight."