Cravings

[Existentially Odd]

The redheaded vampire who was generally known as Tom - but who had begun to think of himself as Indiana in times more recent - approached the club with trepidation unbecoming one so casually evil.  He wasn\'t worried about the predators or the prey within - and certainly not the demonic bouncers at the door who looked at him like his eyes were portals to a soul they\'d enjoy snacking on - but he was worried.

He wanted to see her again.  Needed to see her.  He\'d fed twice in the two weeks since he\'d drunk from Vivianne and both times had been like river mud his mouth had dredged to torture him (the analogy had severely unimpressed the first bitch he\'d tasted and she hadn\'t appreciated being flung away with disgust when he\'d taken his fill, either).  He needed to feel her soft young body held against hims with righteous opposition - until he bit her and she melted like the sweetest bit of fairy floss wrapping itself around his tongue.  He needed to taste her purity, to drink her nectar.  He craved her.

The problem was, she hadn\'t called him and he\'d promised that it would be her choice.  He was trying to be the gentleman on this one, to win her over, to have her craving the bite (and him), to hear her beg for him when it became too much.  Apparently he was either underestimating his own power of allure greatly (not very likely) or she was a much tougher sell than he\'d pegged her for (had to be).  The girl obviously had a will made of iron and a poor memory to rival his own, otherwise she would surely have called him before now, to invite herself over so he could have his way with her.

As crazy as it was driving him - both the drinking poor-substitute river mud and her being able to resist his wiles - he had to do something about it... hence the trip to Risk.

It was a Saturday night; the line outside the club was huge, the energy blasting out the doors of it proclaiming that at least thrice as many were packed in tight within its grasp already.  He was fairly sure Wild Hunt played Risk every weekend, he\'d seen them a couple of times but had kept to himself.  As fun as teaching that thieving bitch Morgaine a lesson had been, he didn\'t feel the need to renew her acquaintance just because his schedule wasn\'t as full as it had once been.

Tonight would be different.  He walked past the bouncers with a conspiratorial wink for the one to his left, thumbs hooked into the front pockets of his jeans and the wooden heels of his boots clicking - until they hit the carpet.  Then, he walked with muffled thuds that only the supernatural would pick up beneath the outrageous sounds of the Hunt crafting their magic at top volume within the depths of the club.

The huge amount of noise, coupled with his turbulent emotions, caused a peculiar mix of confusion and disorientation to invade the recesses of his brain, leaving him working at a very primal level as he walked.  His hips swung so that his crotch preceded him through the doorway to the club proper, his broad shoulders were alarmingly square beneath the adoring swathe of his black silk shirt and his white, lightly freckled chest was enhanced by the chunky rope-looking gold chain glinting upon it.  His hair was spiked carefully (he\'d taken a cab so his helmet didn\'t wreck it, in fact) and the way his collar was upturned - but three undone buttons left his throat and the rounded edges of his pectorals exposed - proclaimed that he\'d come here looking for attention.

Not just anyone\'s, though.  Vivi\'s.  He paused just inside the doorway, not just because he needed a moment to take in the scene before him and formulate a plan to get to her, but also because the place was fucking jumping and he could barely see the stage, let alone get to it.  Thankfully, they actually were playing.  He\'d arrived at three o\'clock because he figured it would have to be close to the end of the Hunt\'s set and also because he\'d expected that mortal enthusiasm for being out and clubbing would have waned by now.  Damn, but he\'d been wrong, and that didn\'t improve his mood at all.

Frowning, the attractive redhead began using his superior height and strength to elbow his way through the throng.  People and vampires alike moved on their own missions towards satisfaction of one sort or another but they mostly worked in his favour until he got closer to the stage.  Scanning the group, he caught glimpses of Vivi at the back and to one side and was relieved.  He began pushing and sliding himself more determinedly in that direction, not really listening to what they were singing or looking at the effect they had on the crowd; he was focussed only on getting near enough to that side of the stage that she would see him - though when she did, he had no idea what he\'d do.

It took a few pokes, hisses and even a kiss for him to get to where he wanted to be - it also must have taken half an hour - but eventually he got to Vivi\'s side of the stage and was able to take up what he thought might be a casually interested pose.  Of course, said pose involved staring doggedly at the blonde goddess he\'d come to know pretty damn intimately and watching her every move like it might reveal some ancient symbolism which he\'d been needing his whole life.  Every now and then his gaze would flick assessingly to the rest of the group, to see what they were doing (and hoping like fuck they\'d call it quits soon... surely Morgaine would run out of energy before dawn, with the way she hurled herself around the stage?) but mostly he stayed true.

Staring at Vivi, hoping to catch her eye, hoping she\'d be happy to see him, hoping she\'d feel his craving and want with equal fervour to satisfy it.  Hoping.

[Harlequin]

Lucky for Tom, it was nearly the end of their set, as Morgaine was announcing just as he approached  on Vivianne\'s side of the stage. "Awright kids!" catcalled the singer as she skidded to a halt in front of her mic, "This is our last song tonight. Yeah, yeah, I know you\'re crushed -"

Vivianne had heard it before, and tuned the guitarist out. She slumped in her chair, glad for the break. As Morgaine gave her short speech, Chance -- the band\'s considerably more outgoing blonde -- jogged over and leaned a casual elbow on one of Vivianne\'s slumped shoulders. She let him, until it was time for her to play the opening notes to their next song ( a cover of "Touch-a Touch-a Touch-a Touch Me" from The Rocky Horror Picture Show) -- then he found himself halfway to the floor before he caught his balance.  

Unlucky for Tom, however, Vivianne didn\'t generally didn\'t like to look at the audience -- so the first person whose attention he caught was Chance\'s, as he straightened his britches indignantly.

Normally, the dancer would have thought nothing of him -- just another pretty face in a sea of pretty faces -- but the intensity with which the redhead watched his bandmate gave Chance the willies. He swatted Vivianne\'s shoulder to get her attention, and turned it then toward Tom, by pointing like an ignorant four-year-old. The rest of the audience was focused on Morgaine; he didn\'t necesarilly care what they saw one way or the other.

Vivianne knew the harp like the back of her hand, but she still fudged a note -- causing a loud, dischordant \'twang\' that was soon absorbed by the rest of the music, though it still caused her to cringe -- when her makeup-ringed eyes found their goal. She\'d wanted to see Tom, again, yes, badly, and soon -- she just hadn\'t been able to sit down and make the call. But not here! Not now! Was his memory really so bad that he\'d forgotten the part about Morgaine hating his guts?!
She hadn\'t managed to wipe the stricken expression from her face by the time she had to sing her part with the rest of the band; a suggestive chorus of  "Down, down, down," -- they\'d been astonished that she\'d volunteered to sing onstage at all, without weeks of guilt tripping -- and there was no hiding it from the gnat-like Chance, who shot her a questioning look. She shook her head minutely and he shrugged, still obviously unsatisfied. He left it alone, however, and cartwheeled across the stage to bother drummer Joe. She knew the rest of the band would\'ve noticed the missed note; she just hoped that Chance would keep his mouth shut; because even if he didn\'t put two and two together, one of the others would.

Once he was gone, she looked sidelong toward the vampire, checking to see if he was still there. Yep. Damn. In about forty seconds the song would be over, and she had no idea what would happen then.

[Existentially Odd]

When he felt her gaze upon him, he grinned automatically, his eyes lighting up with cheekiness.  She didn\'t stay looking at him for long, though, and he could understand that; he was her dirty little secret, which sent all sorts of nice tingles through him.  The peak moment - for him - had been when the blonde guy had pointed at him and Vivi had refused to even look his way.

Feeling confident even though he was being ignored, the vampire folded his arms and simply watched the set wind up.  When the noise of the Hunt and the wild cheering that accompanied them offstage was replaced by the usual bass sounds of the music Risk favoured, Tom followed the mostly-dispersing crowd off the dance floor, doing his best to keep pace with all the band\'s groupies.  He didn\'t intend to get close enough for Morgaine to spot him - and she seemed intent on lapping up the adulation she was receiving, as far as he could tell - but he wanted to stay close.

He was glad of the band\'s habit of relaxing in the club after a set, enjoying a few drinks with fans and generally making trouble... it left him room to loiter in the recesses and hope for a moment where Vivi would excuse herself.

[Harlequin]

To the casual observer, the band appeared to be simply a group of young people, but the less-than-casual-observer might notice the way a portion of their attention was always peripherally focused on the slight girl trailing toward the back of the group, accompanied by their huge, black drummer, who had laid an arm around her slight shoulders.

She herself seemed distracted, however, as they headed from the stage toward the bar. Her head swiveled from side to side – disguised in a neck-cracking motion, or a smile directed up toward her companion as her eyes wandered behind him in search of the redhead, whom she\'d lost track of in the clamor of getting offstage.

Despite her clever ruse, Morgaine noticed and paused (mid-sentence) in her attention whoring for a few moments to ask, "Vivianne, you have been acting like the biggest spaz for the past two weeks. What are you looking for?"

"Nothing," the teen replied, too quickly, followed by a childishly defensive "Have not." Morgaine\'s eyes narrowed.

"That dude from the floor," Chance put in for her, appearing out of nowhere to gloriously ignore her answer, which Morgaine also chose to do.

"What dude?" Morgaine\'s focus on the blonde punk was razor sharp.

"I dunno," he shrugged, "Never seen him before. Red hair, premium fuckability, if you\'re into the gold-chain, bare-chest, early 90\'s high-class drug-Lord look –"

"Are you?" asked Ami, who had managed to lose her shirt (again), and seemed only marginally interested in the conversation taking place.

"That\'s none of your fucking business." He went on without breaking stride "Point is: he was staring at our girl here like a supermodel watchin\' a box of doughnuts." He turned and aimed a pointedly serious look at Vivianne, "Don\'t feed the stalkers, Vee."

"I wasn\'t," she said, with completely genuine exasperation, "I\'ve never even metthat man." By now, they\'d reached the bar, and were claiming the stools that magically appeared upon their approach. Joe moved to gather Vivianne into his lap as he sat, but she moved away – apparently ignorant of his intentions, and of the troubled expression that now dominated his features as she claimed her own seat. Through the whole exchange he\'d been ruminative, and only quietly concerned. Now he was alert, alarmed; the girl really wasn\'t herself.

Over the next ten minutes, the groupies settled in around them, and the usual debauchery ensued – Chance found somebody to breakdance with at the edge of the dancefloor, Ami was trading dirty jokes with a small group of dedicated fans, bottle in hand, and Morgaine had slipped into the greenroom – behind the bar – to change out of her sweaty clothes. Vivianne had given up on finding Tom – there were too many people, and she got nervous watching them all. Her focus was now on finding a chance to slip away – but Joe\'s attention was halfway on her, and it didn\'t look like that was going to change.

When Morgaine returned, however, she took a circuitous route, and grabbed Chance\'s arm, leading him away from his complaining dance partner  before Vivianne could see them. "Could you point this motherfucker out to me?" she asked, head bowed conspirationally.  He nodded assent, concerned enough not to ask why. After a short search of the crowd, he laid eyes on the vampire, and pointed again.

"Motherfucker," hissed the singer, recognizing Tom on sight, even halfway across the large room. Her feet were propelling her through the crowd before the thought had reached the conscious part of her brain, and the look on her face spelled calamity for anyone brave enough to look her directly in the eye.

[Existentially Odd]

If anyone was brave (or stupid) enough to stare Morgaine down, it was most certainly the vampire she knew as Tom.  Problem was, he was also aware that Morgaine would attempt to gnaw on his ass hard enough she\'d be shitting his shoelaces by breakfast and that was exactly what didn\'t need to come between he and his paramour.  He knew that he was Vivi\'s little secret and if he was confronted by the band, he was a bad enough liar (and a good enough braggart) that he wouldn\'t be able to keep his mouth shut.

All that taken into account, he spied the exotic little Bollywood chick heading his way and did the first thing he could think to do: he ducked and ran.

Of course, someone of his supernatural speed and agaility would have no  problem getting out of that club under normal circumstances, but these were not normal circumstances and so when he ducked and ran, he did so literally - and cracked his head fucking hard on the unsuspecting column that he\'d somehow completely forgotten he\'d been lurking inconspicuously (staring straight at Vivi and not paying nearly enough attention to the rest of the band) beside.

"Ow!  Fuck!" he bellowed with all the grace of a newborn calf bawling for its mother, slapping the point of incapacitation with both hands.  It fucking hurt, because of course he\'d taken off at an instantaneous gallop and he\'d collided hard.  The plaster was, in fact, dented and the paint was peeling off from the impact.  It was long enough to Morgaine to get to him but he was too busy staggering back from the building he\'d headbutted and staying on his feet to think about it.  He heard her yappy little bitch-whine at his elbow when she arrived, though decided he was best to keep his face covered with his hands and not look at her for the time being.  He also tried not saying anything besides swearing at the pain for a while, too.

[Harlequin]

Doubly unfortunate for him, however, flight indicated guilt. Though what he was guilty of, she couldn\'t say. Yet.

It also invited pursuit, and Morgaine embodied the Hounds of yore; once she smelled blood, she would stop at nothing until she brought her prey to the ground.

Unless it brought itself down first.

Morgaine liked to think that she was a force to be reckoned with (it was comforting in it\'s accuracy) and the scene which unfolded upon her approach convinced her further of this reality. She could make a vampire two feet taller than her and hundreds of years her senior make a dash for the door without even saying one word? She was fucking Superman.

Her first instinct was to break down into paroxysms of laughter, but she fought the urge, and her expression became all the fiercer for it as she stamped over to the vampire, "Avoiding somebody?" she asked caustically, completely unsympathetic.

She, of course, was not the only one who\'d seen the vampire\'s escape attempt. Chance had cringed, watching from across the room, and the noise had attracted Vivianne\'s attention, as well (not to mention that of the entire club, most of whom returned to ignoring them, but there was also a dedicated crowd of obvious rubberneckers). She held a hand over her mouth as she watched Morgaine\'s approach in mute terror, eyes as wide as saucers. This was not what should have happened. This was the worst thing that possibly could have happened.

[Existentially Odd]

"No," Tom argued angrily, splitting his fingers and then sliding his hands down his face so that he could see her over the top of them.  "I smelled something skanky coming my way and decided to get the fuck out of Dodge," he told her petulantly, still keeping his face covered (even though the majority of the damage to his head was done to his forehead, not his mouth).

"How you doing, cu-uh, Morgaine?" he asked as sweetly as you please.

[Harlequin]

Skank?!  She certainly looked the part, she knew, tonight, in her checkered miniskirt and the low-cut concert T-shirt she\'d traded her stage clothes for, but that was wholly beside the point. She folded her arms across her chest an cocked a hip, every bit the Alpha efamle despite the fact that she had to crane her head back to look at Tom\'s face, "Don\'t be bitter, now, just \'cause I wouldn\'t let you hit this." she pouted snidely (if one can ever really do such a thing).

"And I\'m doing fucking fantastic," she said through gritted teeth, actually prodding him in the chest with one finger as she spoke, "A lot fucking better than you\'ll be doing if you don\'t stop staring at my harpist like she\'s a piece of meat."

At the bar, Vivianne cringed. Joe wrote the reaction off as simply a product of the fact that Morgaine seemed hell bent on causing a scene. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped, turning wide eyes on him, "I," she paused, took a breath, "I\'m gonna go change," she finished,  in an explosion of words. She couldn\'t be here, watching this. It was like watching a trainwreck. Her very own personal trainwreck.

Before Joe could open his mouth to offer to escort her, as he usually did, the teenager was off her stool and slipping away through the crowd.

[Existentially Odd]

Quicker than blinking, he snatched at the hand that had poked him in the chest and squeezed it as he shoved his face down into hers.  His other hand fell away to properly reveal the glints of blue ice his eyes had become at the accusation he was disrespecting Vivianne.

"Just shut the fuck up and listen," he snarled, his nose barely millimetres from hers.  "You don\'t get to tell me how I\'m looking at people, even if you think they\'re your people.  You also don\'t get to threaten me when I could rip your fuckin\' neck open faster than you could let out a scream to warn people it\'s gonna\' happen.  And you don\'t get to push me around like I\'m your bitch, because I\'m fucking not," he hissed, squeezing her hand once again for reference, before he threw it towards her chest with a sneer of disgust.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, something was moaning woefully at how he wasn\'t putting a dampener on this situation and how that could pose serious problems in the future for Vivi agreeing to meet with him, but he couldn\'t help it.  Little upstart thieving bitches like Morgaine - whom he\'d gallantly let live - didn\'t poke him and get away with it.

"Now," he announced magnanimously, straightening away from her face and rolling his shoulders as if to shake off the dark and violent mood he\'d so quickly slipped into.  "I tell you here and now, with all due respect, that I was not looking at the blonde like she was meat.  I think she looks lovely," he said primly, batting his eyelashes automatically as he thought of just how lovely Vivi really was.  "I was just looking - that\'s no crime, unlike, say, vandalising someone\'s bike and stealing from them is," he told her through stiff lips.

His expression was disapproving though, behind it, he was worrying frantically whether he\'d properly deflected the talk of Vivi or not.  He\'d tried to play it cool but he doubted that calling her lovely sounded as natural on him as it felt.  Morgaine didn\'t know his softer side, all he\'d done was toy with her and he didn\'t think there was much recourse to be had in letting it all hang out now, either.  He\'d as likely sunk his ship with the lead singer as surely as he\'d attempted to show her his true colours in just a glimpse of respect, but he had to try and tell himself that what Morgaine thought wouldn\'t matter to Vivi, as much as being with him did.

But he couldn\'t even make himself believe that one.

[Harlequin]

For a few moments, Tom\'s face and voice filled up Morgaine\'s whole world. She did as she was told, sure enough, wide eyes, teeth bared in a primitive grimace – until she was released, and the force of his throw forced her to stumbled backward a step. Feeling returned to her crushed fingers, and with the pain came her ire, redoubled now that – once again – he\'d succeeded in frightening her. This time he seemed to be trying, however, which was a small comfort – only just large enough to stop her from laying into him without giving him a chance to speak.

Which would have been a shame, because then she might have missed him batting his eyelashes like an infatuated schoolgirl.

Lovely?!

Slowly, her expression of rage transformed into one of utter incredulity. This wasn\'t the guy she\'d met in the alley that night. The word lovely was not part of that guy\'s vocabulary.

And what did he mean, she thought they were her people?

"Yeah?" she shot back, reclaiming her place right up in his grille, "You wanna talk about crime? Lets talk about mur–" Before she could finish the thought, however, there was a large black man pulling her a few feet away, whom she then rounded on.

Before she could unleash her wrath on her bandmate, however, his rumbling bass dominated the space between them, as well as hte thmping beat of the club music, "She\'s gone," he said, looking troubled.

"Who?"

"Vee."

"What, where the hell\'d she go?"

"Dunno, Flo. She just texted me, said she\'s going out, might not be back \'til mornin\'. Her bike\'s not in the lot, and she ain\'t pickin\' up her phone, Joan." His frown deepened, and he shrugged helplessly.

Chance had been lurking much closer by, creeping ever closer and looking around frantically for a security guard from the time Tom grabbed the singer, absolutely certain that Morgaine would die if somebody didn\'t get out of there fast. Ami followed suit, though at a slightly more erratic, weaving pace – she wasn\'t about to let a little bit of Band Drama get in the way of her drinking, no sir.

Tom could probably hear their little powow – Chance certainly could, and he didn\'t hesitate to have his input, "So, okay, let me get this straight. This motherfucker\'s –"  He jerked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the vampire, "been here this whole time puttin\' up with you. And that means that whatever\'s got Viv all moony has nothin\' to do with him, and this whole scene\'s about you and your motherfuckin\' vendetta? Over somethin\' that happened months ago, which you fuckin\' deserved anyway, \'cause you let your dumb ass get caught?" Now, it was his turn to get mad. Morgaine had no reply for that. His words were – more or less – true. Had it been any other creepy individual, she\'d have been happy just to keep an eye on him until he made a move, but since it was Tom, she\'d instantly gone for the jugular (as it were), without any real cause.

"Makes it technically your fault, Em, her leavin\'," Ami put in, having apparent difficulty putting her mouth around the words, "For startin\' shit." Morgaine looked at the ground and grimaced, clearly ashamed.

"So are we gonna go find \'er?" asked Joe, seeing nothing constructive in their bickering, and impatient to get this show on the road.

There was nothing more, really, to say, and they filed off, through the dance floor Moraine lead of course, stalking off without another word aimed toward the vampire. Chance lurked behind for a moment, and addressed the redhead, "Uh, look, dude, it wasn\'t meant to go down like that. Shit got WAY outta hand. Thanks for not, uh, killin\' \'er or anything. She\'s a horrible, rancid bitch, but she plays a wicked guitar." And with that awkward approximation of an apology, Chance was gone, too, at the tail end of the group.

While all of this had been going on, Vivianne herself was actually in an alley a few blocks from the club, lurking in the darkness on her bike. In the midst of the band\'s larger converstaion, she texted Tom a completely different message from the one she\'d sent Joe:

Meet me at the loading dock around the back of the club. Wait until they leave. Make sure they\'re gone.  –V

[Existentially Odd]

The vampire had resisted the urge to dig his phone out of his pocket when his balls started vibrating because he was not about to draw attention to himself again; not when the tide seemed to be merrily swinging in the other direction.  His smile was cocky and triumphant as they talked amongst themselves; he raised an eyebrow when the blonde boy talked to him at the end, and dd his best to look unjustly accused instead.

Truthfully, he checked Chance out more than listened to his words, smelling vamp on him and looking him up and down curiously because it seemed that at least one other band member didn\'t seem to mind riding the bite train to pleasure town.  Unless it was just that the kid was an enthusiastic dancer and didn\'t mind what he rubbed up against, of course.

When they were gone, Tom checked his messages and was indescribably relieved to see that it was from Vivi

disappointed, though, aren\'t ya?
Not from Reed
never again, man, let it go

so he sent her a quick reply.

They think u\'r pissed at M bcos she was starting shit. c u soon lovely

She would also think he\'d flipped his lid, giving her more nicknames, but he didn\'t care; he was giddy with the knowledge that she wanted to see him and had even orchestrated a separation from her band to do it.  In fact, he was verily buzzing with excitement as he struck a nonchalant pose near a pillar (that didn\'t attack him... damn but he was looking forward to Viv\'s blood healing him up quickly) and watched the Hunt\'s progress.

They swooped around collecting all the remaining members for a bit and then charged out the door like the couriers of God on a high-priority errand.  Chance stopped to clean up a few spotfires that flared in their wake (it seemed that none of them - especially Morgaine - were too worried about going through folks instead of around them if the straightest path was also the fastest), and Tom got the impression that he was their goodwill ambassador.  Seemed an interesting guy.

Their last point of conversation was with the bouncers at the front and then they mounted up and rode away in a roar of defiant determination.  They left one bike behind because one of their members was apparently too drunk to drive but other than that, they were gone in record time.  The vampire switched immediately out of stealthy-stalking mode and hightailed it around the corner of the building, heading for the dock.  He was glad he\'d taken a cab now, for he could rely on Viv to transport them and there wouldn\'t have to be any awkwardness with two bikes.

He approached at a slow jog (for him), a broad grin on his face and his eyes twinkling mischievously.  "They\'ve gone looking for you," he admonished approvingly, "think they\'ll find you?"  He sidled up to her and whispered the last in her ear as he wrapped his arms about her slight body and pressed his face in against her neck.

[Harlequin]

After receiving his text (and trying not to cringe at the chatspeak) she\'d taken off, and pulled up about two minutes previous to the departure of her white knights, the growl of her own engine hidden in the roar of theirs. She was still halfway in her stage clothes – the ones she\'d let Morgaine put on her for the first time – the asymmetrical-cut skirt went, in favor of a more practical pair of wide-legged jeans, which covered her boots, but the earthy red, similarly off center top stayed; the left sleeve dropped in a floaty, pointed hem to cover her fingertips, but her right arm and shoulder were left completely bare.

She was leaning over the handlebars of her bike when he first spotted her, having just dismounted. She startled upright as soon as she heard bootheels on gravel – followed soon by the sound of his voice. A small hesitant smile broke out on her face when it became apparent that he wasn\'t angry with her. She allowed him to embrace her, tilting her head to the side to better expose her throat. There was till a certain stiffness to her muscles, a stubborn resistance that wasn\'t likely to ever fade entirely, but it was slightly less than before.

"No," she said, with certainty, in a hushed tone more suited to stealth than seduction, "This is the last place they\'ll expect me to be. They\'ll stop looking in an hour, hour and a half." A slight pause, and then she added, more softly, "I missed you."

[Existentially Odd]

And damn if that didn\'t cause his dead heart to swell with happiness he\'d not expected.  He laughed, his mind cherishing her words by running them over and over again, just so he could hear it once more, twice more, thrice more.  Somebody finally missed him!  Sure, Reed used to and had even told him so in as convoluted and typically cool manner as he\'d been able to but this... this was typical sweet, innocent Vivi.  Nobody talked like her (not to him, anyway), no-one was her.

He picked her up in his happiness, holding her to him with enthusiasm but obvious care, as he didn\'t want to break her.  "I thought you were never gonna\' call," he groaned, pressing soft kisses to her throat before pulling back to look up at her eyes.  "I didn\'t mean to cause trouble by coming here, honest," he told her sincerely, looking worried that she\'d be mad with him.  "I just... even if I couldn\'t talk to you, I had to see you," he confessed.

[Harlequin]

Vivianne was well used to being picked up – Joe had a habit of picking her up carrying her places where she normally wouldn\'t need to be carried. She didn\'t really understand it, but it made him happy, so she didn\'t complain.

She liked being the person that made Tom happy, too, even if it had meant – in this case – making Morgaine angry. She didn\'t know how the others felt; nothing good, certainly. But for some bizarre reason, this made her happy, too. Surely that had to count for something? As if speaking to this, a wide smile spread across her face as she looked down at him.

"It\'s okay," she assured him quickly, seeming perfectly happy to let him hold her there as long as he wanted to, in that moment, "I mean, it was bound to happen sometime, right? I think it went as well as could be expected."

Her smile faded a bit, "I\'m sorry I didn\'t ever, actually, y\'know, call," she said, "I did want to see you. I-I just got nervous every time I tried."

She seemed to notice, then, that her feet were still off the ground, "You can, uh, put me down, if you want," she offered, "I mean, if you want to." she clarified without actually clarifying.

[Existentially Odd]

He grinned lopsidedly at her, letting her slide down his body despite what his answer was.  "No.  Not really.  I don\'t think I\'ll ever want to put you down... but if I do, you\'ll be able to drive me to my place and we can actually settle in... so there are benefits," he told her as she reached the ground.  Spontaneously, he leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose.

"You do want to go to my place, don\'t you?" he then asked, his anxiety finally peeking out.