A Late Night Out (Peter Parkman)

[Harriet Opara (DELETED 8145)]

Vampire. That word hit Harriet like a truck. It made sense to her, based on what had happened, for vampires to be the explanation. But she sure as Hell wasn't ok with it. She tried to ring the blood from her shirt, but as she got it on her hands she shuddered and ended up wiping it off on her jeans instead. "This is ridiculous.." She groaned. "You're mad!"

He had saved her though, she reasoned. That had definitely happened. There was no way she could imagine a pain so real, so vicious. She must've been shot. But now she was miraculously fine, and if there had to be an explanation it definitely could be vampires. She hated just thinking about it. Did she have fangs now? Weird eyes? Was she paler? She checked herself, but the blood just made her feel disgusted and she decided to stop looking down at it.

"Do.. Do I look different?" She almost scolded herself for asking - like he'd know, he'd only seen her in a dark alley. Harriet let him lead her to the street, and she looked around skittishly, taking in as much as she could, trying to remember each step so that if this man was going to kill her she could find her way home following an escape. She didn't think he would though, not really. He had saved her. She reached out and tapped his shoulder, flinching away as soon as he responded.

"Sorry, ah.. What is your name? Y'know, so that I can, like, file a police report." She tried to make it sound like a joke, she really did, but it wasn't all that funny and the way her voice broke half way through it didn't help. She was renowned for making crappy jokes in even crappier situations, and few ever landed well. She forced a smile, but it was over flowing with clear dread.

Why couldn't it go back to normal? She should have just wobbled home, showered, gone to bed and spent another miserable day at home. Her routine wasn't much, but she liked it. She liked lounging infront of the biggest window in her apartment, reading, bathed in sunlight. She knew it could never happen again, be it because she'd burn or because this was the night one of the dogs ate her. Maybe if she survived she'd get a dog. She always loved German Shepherds, and she'd seen a lot of them working at the police department. They were lovely.

Reminded of the police department, Harriet wrung her hands. She had a job, a proper stable job, and the teenagers in Vampire books never had to deal with that. Sure, she was suspended so it wouldn't be a problem immediately, but it definitely would become one. She honestly loved her work. She was new enough to still be filled with hope about helping the city and now she knew she never could. Unless she became some sort of vigilante. She gave a little hysterical giggle in her head at the thought.

[Peter Parkman]

Peter worried for the woman’s sanity. Yes, she was the one calling him mad, and he didn’t even flinch at the accusation. It was a reasonable accusation, for someone who lived an ordinary life to suddenly be told they were a vampire. Yes, she could feel free to think he was mad until she figured out that he was telling the truth. He couldn’t defend his sanity, however, before she was talking about filing a police report. Peter was forced to stop even though he didn’t want to, the dogs straining at their leads. They knew where they were going; they knew there was prospect of food.

Peter didn’t know how to detect humour. Even with the smile, the cracked voice, the delirious demeanour, he didn’t understand. He wasn’t afraid. He hadn’t been the one to shoot her, and he wasn’t kidnapping her either. He’d told her where he wanted them to go, and she was coming with him. It wasn’t by force. And he wouldn’t be able to force her. But he also knew he wouldn’t be any good if she chose to resist him. The mere thought terrified him.

”But… you can’t tell them you were shot because there’s no evidence,” he said, shaking his head. ”If I were like the rest of them I might have gone after the one who shot you. There are plenty of vampires who’d have killed someone like that, but I can’t handle the blood,” he said, glancing down at the stains on the woman’s clothes. At least the breeze was taking the scent away from them.

”My name is Peter. Peter Parkman,” he said, slowly. He’d already told her his name, but she had been dying at the time. He could forgive her for forgetting. ”I don’t know what you looked like before. I’m sorry, I can’t tell you whether you look different. Who are you?” he asked. Jack, one of the smaller dogs, yapped. He was always the impatient one. Lady whined, just a little. They were all a little restless, except for Hunter, who’d flopped down on the ground, ready to sleep wherever he paused. Peter was wary of the time. But he was also wary of this woman’s state of mind, and he didn’t think that rushing her would do either of them any good. Not when she had just called him mad, and when he wanted her to keep following him.

[Harriet Opara (DELETED 8145)]

For a moment, she didn't know. There was a moment of mental hesitation, where she thought of nothing, before her name and who she was came back to her. In the shock, she'd almost forgotten. In her head, she recounted to herself. She was Harriet Opara, 22, a relatively new recruit at the local PD. She'd been suspended. She didn't linger on why, because she didn't want to think about it. It was foolish. Her mother had died, and her father lived across the country. There was no bitterness there. Her favourite colour was green.

"I'm Harriet." She said, after the moments of contemplation. "I'm an Officer, at the PD... Although, probably not any more.." God, how would she resign? Or would she fake her death? No, that would never work. It would open an investigation. Harriet supposed she could just send it to them and then ignore them forever. She did want to though, she'd wanted to be a police officer since she was very young. She still had that typical 'make the world a better place' attitude from the Police Academy. She didn't want it all to end so soon.

"If I can't work, how will I make money?" She was mostly talking to herself, not Peter. Her eyebrows pulled together with concern. Her apartment was expensive, she would never be able to live their without a job, and she liked it there very much. It was the right amount of room for her, and in her short time there she had become incredibly attached to it. Harriet was so sick of being new to things. She'd only been out of the Academy for a year, only had this job for eight months. And now she was starting something else new, with a new person who she didn't know anything about.

And then something else new struck her. If she was a vampire, she knew what vampires did, in movies anyway. And he said she needed blood. She couldn't bare to do it, she wouldn't manage it. Especially not taking a life. She had spent her previous years working to protect. Harriet was never squeamish, but the thought of drinking blood made her stomach churn.

"I don't want to.. I don't want to kill. I won't have to, right? Right?" She repeated it, getting a little louder and reaching out to grasp his arm. It was harder than she meant it as panic directed the movement.

[Peter Parkman]

Peter might have laughed, except laughter wasn’t something that came easily to the awkward man. He laughed mostly when he was nervous, or when he didn’t understand something. It was a coping tactic, a distraction mechanism. A way to buy time. He shook his head.

”No. I would not be here right now if I were forced to kill people,” Peter said. It was the literal truth; Peter was incapable of telling anything but. If he’d found out he had to kill people to survive he’d have killed himself long ago – or turned himself over to the hunters so that they could do a more thorough job of it. Either that, or he’d have begged his sire to take him out of this world, just as she’d brought him into it.

”I keep a routine. I like routine. The sight and smell of blood makes me nauseous and so I have it delivered in a Styrofoam cup. We only need one pint a night and a routine is required, because some vampires lose control if they get too hungry. That’s when they kill people. Even though vampires tend to be violent in general and most that I’ve met seem to think that it’s normal,” he said. The words came without much thought; the honest truth, a lesson that could have waited, and yet Peter wasn’t much for sugar-coating. He wouldn’t know how.

”It will take some time to adjust. I did lose my job to begin with, but it wasn’t hard to get back – a similar job, not the exact same one. I still work at the University, the hours are different. I can lend you money until you have adjusted. The police department, I assume, requires night time patrol as much, or more, than they require day time, correct?” he asked. He was trying to reassure Harriet. Not everything had to change. Secrets would have to be kept and she would have to be careful, but there was no reason why she had to give up everything. That would be unfair, and it certainly wasn’t something Peter would ever ask her to do.

”… I will help you, whatever you decide,” he said, glancing down at the fingers that clutched his arm. Physical contact with strangers made him uncomfortable, but in this instance even he knew an exception should be tolerated.