I had wanted to speak to Carmin alone, and her morning coffee run had seemed to be the best time. I didn't want to confront her at her apartment after the last time I'd been there. Of course there is no true decency in this universe, and within moments of my arrival we were joined by none other than my currently snubbed lover's alternate interest. If it were not for her untimely and highly inopportune interruption, I would have had appropriate time and privacy to gently coerce Carmin into joining me that night. Instead, I was forced to make an executive decision, and give her no choice. There was, of course, the chance that she wouldn't show up, however if I knew Carmin at all, she would. She'll expect me to expect her not to show, and nothing pleases her more than giving me exactly what I don't expect.

I had been as agreeable as was possible, wading through the babble of conversation with all the grace I could manage. Conversation with Carmin is a game. It's emotionally draining, but fun and stimulating at the same time. There's a formula to everything she says: take the statement and interpret the opposite meaning.

Once Kira arrived, things got much easier, and much less interesting. She tries to combine Carmin's apathy with Vira's passion and it makes her come across as very overbearing, as well as making her an open book to read. Things did, however, begin to grow in complexity when the quiet Chinese boy sat down.

The connection shared between Carmin and Neil is disturbing in its intensity. In my experience, people connected by that sort of bond have copulated within hours of meeting each other. Yet to my knowledge this has never happened between the two of them. Engaging in conversation had become more the navigation of a mine field -- she is much harder to keep off balance when he is around to equal her out.

"I love you," she had said. My heart had almost stopped beating, if such a thing were possible.

"No you don't."

I had to get her off of such a path of thought. In the manner of any sentient creature that takes even a mild interest in its own life, she asked why. I soothed the tense atmosphere with a decidedly commonplace comment, setting the mood that her verbal homicide had just created back to a lighter one.

I didn't stay long, leaving swiftly with an open invitation left for Carmin which I was sure she would accept. I did not expect her to follow me outside. I was standing, staring sightlessly at the billboard in front of me, trying to regain my mental equilibrium when she stepped up beside me. I didn't have to look up; her scent is unmistakable. Smoke and incense and coffee and ink. My pretty girl doesn't wear perfume.

"The fact that you're a vampire has absolutely no affect on your resistance to hot coffee." This was better. I allowed myself to relax slightly, forcing my fists to unclench. The coffee was the last thing on her mind.

"I was wondering how long that'd take you."

"You do that on purpose, don't you?" She was angry because she didn't know what was going on. Our little games did not provide her with exact thoughts and emotions which she could articulate on paper. Perhaps she hadn't been so in control inside after all. Best to keep her that way.

"Do what?"

"Screw with my mind." I inclined my head slightly. She most definitely knew at least partially what I was doing to her. That, I should have expected. She isn't a stupid girl, and she is immensely paranoid. "I suppose."

I was expecting her to argue the point, or possibly try to drag my self-esteem through the mud for a few laughs. To my disappointment, her footsteps moved away from my position, deliberate and steady, making sure that I knew she was leaving. It was a childish tactic, however one that made sense given the circumstances and her current emotional status.

My hypothesis turned out to be correct, providing me with a mildly hostile Carmin waiting just outside of her apartment at five to nine that evening. "Ready to paint the town black?" I asked mischievously, looping my arm through hers.

"You planning to induct me into the world of darkness?" She smirked in a way which implies more superiority than she could ever possess. She was there, trusting that I would not harm her, and in my mind that constituted a great deal of naiveté. "You're already part of that," I told her. My tone was teasing; my words dead serious.

"Good to know." This was all a joke to her, and I smiled as we left the apartment building and entered the unforgiving night. She didn't see it, and if I were a crueler man I would have allowed the red glow of my eyes to break through the everyday blue.

My car was parked just at the curb, the motor still idling and the lights dimmed. She slipped into the front seat passenger side, not permitting me any time to take such action as closing or opening her door for her. This was no surprise, and I took no offense to it as I am quite accustomed to her utter lack of romanticism.

"I'm going to take you to a club which is heavily populated with my kind," I told her as soon as we'd pulled out into the steady flow of traffic.

"Yay," she said dryly. I continued talking as if she hadn't spoken.

"And before you ask, no, I'm not planning to bring you over."

She laughed awkwardly. "Good. I might have to kill you if you tried."

"As if you could get away with that."

She rolled down her window, and lit a cigarette. "Mind if I smoke?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes."

She inhaled deeply, and let the smoke curl out of the window in a heavy cloud. "Perfect."

"Those make your lungs bleed," I commented, gesturing to the box in her other hand.

She shrugged. "And how very tragic it'd be if I were to die before my time."

"It would." She had been speaking in a sarcastic tone; I hadn't. It was at times such as those that the full force of her apathy struck me in the face.

"What brought this on?" she asked, neatly sidestepping the looming discussion regarding her possible suicidal tendencies.

"You've shown an interest in how the "other half" live. I thought I'd give you a taste."

She cringed. "Different metaphor (?), please."

I laughed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Very bad pun."

She winced again. "You think?"

"My only advice is stick close to me, trust no one, and don't offer anyone a drink." My second play on words earned me a light punch in the shoulder, and I was glad that she was in a moderately playful mood. I was taking a chance bringing her to this place, where most mortals to enter the doors do not leave as mortals, and I had no intentions of fighting with her all night.

"I'm not staying till sunup. I've got work tomorrow, and my idea of a good day doesn't include running off of no sleep."

I shrugged agreeably, for I had no intentions of keeping her there all night. The club I was taking her to was in downtown Vancouver, the entrance well hidden behind a mess of shrubs and a brick wall unless you were looking for it.

"In to the lion's den," she said as I parked. I glanced at her.

"I'm sorry. You don't have to do this, if you don't want to."

She got out of the car, closing the door hard as her response. There was no line up and we entered without obstruction. The dim light cast everything into shadows until my eyes adjusted to the change and I could see as clear as day once again. She wasn't touching me in any way, her hands clasped behind her back and her eyes taking in what she could see like a bird studying a room full of pray. Her lips curved slightly, and the purple of her lipstick stood out brightly against her skin. I held out a hand to her in an invitation, but she through her head back and laughed in mockery of me. Her newly dyed hair fell against the column of her throat and it looked like blood. She stepped back, moving away from me both physically and emotionally. A tall woman in full Victorian garb moved behind her, pressing her velvet clad body right against Carmin's back. We hadn't been there for a minute and I was already losing her. I stepped directly in front of her, invading her personal space. Placing one hand upon her shoulder I pulled her away from the older woman and toward me. She resisted, as I knew she would, and by the time I had gotten her as well as myself away and into a fairly unpopulated corner she had the look in her eyes of a raging tigress.

"You don't own me," she says, hands resting against my shoulders. "You have no right to me - no claim. Therefore you will not make decisions for me ever again."

It had been a monumentally stupid idea to bring her here and I knew I'd be doing penance for my lack of foresight for the rest of the evening. She walked away from me and this time I made no move to stop her. She is correct in that I have no claim to her and thereby have no ability to protect her from the multitudes of unpleasant and downright evil beings that roam the world.

She was dancing with a dark haired man, taller than her and equally as anerexically thin. Together, wrapping themselves around each other like two reeds in a wind storm, they looked as if even the gentlest breeze would send them flitting off into the sky, blown away on the winds of change. He was one of my kind and had made no move toward her neck and I was forced to come to terms with the fact that Carmin (I was very careful to not include the familiar use of the possessive term in my thoughts) could be completely capable of handling herself.

I had invited her, driven her, practically forced her into doing this. She was ignoring my existence and so when a confident red haired woman, lips curved up in an enticing smile guided me into the darker, more private regions of the club I went without a backward glance.