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The squirming didn’t go unnoticed, or rather, the subtle action of trying to cloak himself in a towel had Myk presuming that Cosimo was squirming. This acknowledgement made the Telepath hum dismally to himself and shift on his position once again, considering the reasons why the Italian would behave the way he did and how Myk felt about these supposed reasons. First and foremost, Myk felt guilty. He didn’t like the idea of making the other man feel uncomfortable… this time. Ordinarily it might amuse him, but sentiment had tugged at his heart strings and now he felt a little sick. There weren’t a lot of people that Myk felt allied to, but the Deux Corbeaux had taken him in without any question. The fact that this was a childe of Elizabeth standing before him then should have been enough for the Telepath to care. It did, and pewter eyes made a break for it, skipping across the shallow space between himself and the door. Myk had missed the half-smile the other man had given him, but that superficial brightness was evident in Cosimo’s voice regardless. Listening to those sugar-coated words was slowly drawing the Telepath back out of hiding, albeit with a sigh; this soft breath that took most of Myk’s sombreness with it. When he looked back at Cosimo, the liquid metal of his irises were cloudy and dull like scuffed marbles.

“That is generally how Humans grow, yes…” Myk purred, his tone of voice remaining very forthright and factual rather than emotional. “The trial and error approach is deep-seated in our natures. It’s how we evolve. How many creatures on this planet evolve in fact… Passing on our learning to the next generation...”

“I just hope we have one…”

Myk didn’t pass on that last bit of information to the other male because such greyness would no doubt rain on his parade and Myk still – apparently – cared. Cosimo was young in Vampire years and was perhaps naïve in general, or so, that was how Myk perceived things. That was not necessarily a bad thing and not a judgement that Myk would stick to, it was simply how he understood things at that moment in time. The Telepath may have only been of 26 years old in existence himself, but Myk had not squandered his years all that much. Myk was undoubtedly a fantasist, an escape artist, but he was also curious about the world and wanted to absorb as much information as he could – the good and the bad in equal measure. Myk was forever learning and adapting his way of thinking, and even when it got overwhelming sometimes, Myk was determined to learn even from that. Trial and error, although slow in its approach, was most certainly Myk’s chosen method of learning. One always learnt best when they experienced these things for themselves rather than reading of them in books and acquiring knowledge from hearsay. All this information didn’t necessarily make Myk better than anyone else, but he certainly was better equipped in a debate.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I am like the Lady in regards to my… abilities. I am what they refer to as a Telepath. Though, your Mystic powers are known to me. I am something of a hoarder, an adventurer of knowledge. If something is available, I will try to have it simply because I would like to know what it is like.”

Myk paused to smile and let that bit of useless information sink in if the other wished.

“Curiosity has yet to kill the cat. And, I suppose when it does, I won’t be able to learn from that, but it sure is fun while it lasts!”

Idle chit-chat aside, Myk couldn’t help return to another rather curious observation; why the man was here in the first place. Lascivious smile in place, the Telepath crossed his arms about his chest and began his interrogation.

“So what brought you in here, hmm? I am not sure if you are very cat-like or not… yet.”

The Telepath enjoyed the way Cosimo talked about the cats in his village. Pewter eyes sparkled behind heavy lashes as Myk watched the Italian and dreamt up the picture in his own head. It was easier to do so when the descriptions were so vivid. The Telepath imagined a taupe-furred feline testing the boundaries of its territory, traversing lawns and climbing trees and fences. Myk could all too clearly see the cat dipping and diving into shadows, slipping around brick walls, gliding up the flat edge of a tall fence and finding its way into someone’s home through an open door. Rather than being shooed off, the intruder is welcomed by a young lady who must think him adorable. Myk smirked to himself, considering this cat as a perfect depiction of Cosimo. Perhaps when, or should, this man bridge to the Shifter Path, becoming this taupe cat in truth would be something to expect. Cosimo was correct, Myk would admit: the finicky feline, the bold adventurer and curious cat image certainly was accurate for the Italian.

Though Myk had never kept a pet cat as his own – not until the lazy, green-eyed monster that was Cat – he had always felt more of an affinity toward them over dogs. Britain – which was predominantly Myk’s homeland – was a country of dog lovers. Myk supposed that a fondness for canines suited their culture of laziness, undeserving pride and outright prejudice. The submissive quality of dogs, the fact that you can train them into willing slaves, has always made man feel powerful, as though he deserved his pedestal above the rest of Earth’s creatures. The chaotic, self-serving nature of a cat was less likely to appeal to a bunch of insecure Neanderthals who sought to remember only the past – a time when Britain was an Empire ruling the oceans, a time when Britain was a country of heroes fighting off a blood-thirsty tyrant.

The United Kingdom wasn’t all bad, but Myk remembered the taste of blood washed in his mouth more often when he’d lived there. Every night shared a chance of violence with a chance of rain. Myk’s family were travellers and like a circus, they visited town after town all over Europe as they soaked in culture and entertainment and education. Danger was always a presence to be aware of and while Harper Rock could be considered an epitaph of violence, becoming a Vampire had desensitised Myk somewhat to his immediate surroundings. Those long-term memories, on the other hand, were so deeply embedded into his brain that it was impossible to look back on his path and remember much of anything positive.

Perhaps that was a sad fact of his existence, that Myk remembered mostly the negative in his own history. However, Myk rarely ever talked about himself and so for anyone to know the truth, they would have to be like him – a mind reader. The idea that someone would read his mind, be privy to his memories and his past was somewhat amusing and outstandingly intriguing. Myk would be interested in seeing how they would respond to the events that had happened to him. Knowing that, studying that, would give him a deeper insight into behaviourism – both his and this someone else. Perhaps Myk would find a willing Telepath to test the theory, one that could be trusted to keep their mouths shut and one that Myk already didn’t have an invested interest in. Myk knew of a small couple of Telepaths and they, frankly, didn’t cut it. He might have to cast the net wide if he chose to examine it. With that thought in his mind, Myk laughed openly.

“I think you understand cats very well. I think you understand me… quite well.”

A dark smile came over the Telepath’s red lips in that moment and the glint in his eyes was no less mischievous. Myk pushed himself off the wall and crossed the room to where Cosimo was standing – the limp in his movements hardly noticeable. Myk didn’t pause until he was but a breath away from the Italian and those two inches of height difference didn’t really mean a thing. Pewter eyes inspected the shifting blue of the other man’s irises for a moment before his gaze once again began its travels across the other’s body. No doubt it was more unnerving now than it had been earlier for Cosimo, when Myk had been at a respectable distance. Now that their skin was really little more than a couple of centimetres apart, when Myk’s head dropped to get a better look at the man’s torso, that long, white hair might have tickled the Italian’s skin. At least those bloodied hands were clasped tightly behind the Telepath’s back…

Myk enjoyed the closeness – particularly if the other didn’t. The scent of the other male was thick in the warm air pooling between them, the fragrance of it becoming so strong, so aromatic, it filled the entirety of Myk’s senses with its heady, alluring call and he could scarcely think around it. It took a few moments before Myk smirked to himself, clicked the roof of his mouth with his tongue, and then twisted away – on his good leg – to throw himself into the seat of cushions close by. He almost disappeared into the white of the couch – but having something to compare to made the impurities of the Telepath’s exterior more obvious. Myk’s skin wasn’t snow-white and fresh as the fabric he was seated upon – there was chalkiness to it, a paper-thin quality that made the Telepath look as helpless and vulnerable as papier-mâché. And, of course, there were a menagerie of scars to discern; in particular, those long, vertical marks that scored the underside of his forearms. The shock of off-white mixing with the purest snow was then contrasted once again by the jet black of Myk’s leather trousers and, more obviously, the scarlet of his hands, wrists and leg wound.

As it happened, those bloodied hands came to settle in Myk’s lap – one red finger laced over the other as if he was about to begin a prayer to Satan. Only, he wasn’t praying to anyone and never would. Pewter eyes set themselves on the Italian before him, the metal in his eyes appearing a little dull and jaded. Myk felt like he was about to lose a new toy and he wasn’t exactly pleased.

“I guess… seeing as how I am away from the door,” Myk crooned. “You are free to flee now.”

Assuming that the other Vampire would waste no time in making for an escape, Myk busied himself with removing his shoes and acting as if he didn’t care. The laces weren’t easy to grasp with sticky fingers and the wounded leg had made it particularly difficult to work with. The difficulty was, in actual fact, a welcome distraction. The laces of his one boot had been soaked through and Myk felt the clot inside shift as he wrangled with it. The task was pretty disgusting and the squelching noises that came when he struggled to pull the boots free of his feet were no improvement on the matter. Myk wriggled his toes when they found the open air – cold and delightful on his bare, soiled skin. A healthy, happy sigh loosed itself from the Telepath’s lips and made the edges of those fine, red lines curve upward. By the time Myk looked back into the room, he didn’t know what he was expecting. Would Cosimo have stuck around through all this craziness? Myk wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d left – he never blamed the one who left and always blamed himself. It was his philosophy in life – poached from his father’s way of thinking.

As soon as pewter eyes lifted into the apartment again, however, they were quickly drawn toward the doorway that led into Myk’s bedroom. The slow, deliberate saunter of a black feline stained the canvas-like walls of the corridor and soon enough, the floor beside Myk’s feet. The Telepath smiled as the wide-eyed feline mewled at him – a demand to be fed, undoubtedly. Myk hunched over to greet the demands with a defiant grin.

“Hello there, Cat.”

Cat had taken up a space on the Telepath’s lap mere moments after their greeting. She was a pushy thing when she couldn’t get her way, reminding the Telepath of that caricature of impatience and greed, Veruca Salt. Myk sighed somewhat frustrated as the ink-furred feline bullied her way under his arms and took up her position directly under his nose – halting his clothing removal. Cat was not sitting, curled up in a warm little ball and purring fondly, but was stood defiantly, intolerantly – claws itching his skin beneath the leather trousers as she started to pace. She wanted food and she wanted it now. What a greedy little thing. Myk chuckled lightly to himself as he petted Cat, feeling her fur retract and practically shudder with impatience as he did so. If she were the violent sort, she probably would have attacked him by now. As it was, Cat was too mild tempered and the most she would do is stare at you, mewl and get under your feet. Myk felt that Cat was perhaps as bipolar as he was, for as often as she made it her mission to be the sole source of attention, she also liked to disappear entirely and be left the hell alone. The Telepath was so distracted by the mewling moggy, that Myk definitely needed the cough to remind him that Cosimo was still there.

One brow twitched upward and Myk canted his head to greet those shy blue eyes. He really did think that the man would have left by now having been pestered and freaked out by the Telepath before him. It was a curious thing that the Italian remained, but as Myk soon found out, that was likely the pure result of etiquette. Pewter eyes gave the man one last full-body glance and with a blank expression, nodded his head. Myk wasn’t sure what he was agreeing to exactly. The chances of them meeting on purpose were slim to none unless Cosimo sought him out. Not that Myk wasn’t sociable, but since he always felt like a burden, it was rare he came to others. Myk never liked to talk about himself either, so it was unlikely that Cosimo would have his wish and learn more about the Telepath on a personal level. As for leaving Myk to clean in peace, that would be highly impossible too. With Cat now demanding his focus, it was looking like shower time was being pushed further and further into the night. It certainly was a good job that Myk didn’t need to sleep, and that he had the kind of company that didn’t care about his general appearance. Still, there was something bugging him about Cosimo’s tone of voice, something nagging at him to console this situation.

“For the record, Cosimo… It is nice to have you. I don’t mean to suggest the contrary at all or shoo you out of here. You are welcome to pop in, stay, for as long as you want… including whenever.” Myk paused to regard the green eyes that were simply glaring at him now. “Cat and I are very much peaceable creatures. We like visitors.” Looking at Cosimo again, Myk smiled softly, this small gesture of an apology. “I am glad you feel at home in this big wide open space.”

A quiet smile endured on the Telepath’s lips as Cosimo spoke, spoke some more and then left for good. There was nothing to say on the matter – no comment that would prove useful in anyway but to make the air richer with his voice. As a result, Myk had said nothing and simply smiled. The behaviour suited him in actual fact. Myk was the face you saw, but rarely heard from because he knew that his opinions were seldom welcome and seldom still, understood. It was easier to dismiss the things you did not like and did not understand. Myk scorned rejection on such a ubiquitous basis and so, he would not permit the chance if he could make a difference. If they did not know him well enough to hate him – Myk theorised – then perhaps he would be safe. Still, it was ridiculous to hope on such a thing, which was another reason why he smiled and kept his opinions to himself. You couldn’t force people to have open minds, to be curious, to trounce their ignorance…

Myk was cynical and the learned behaviour was deeply ingrained into his psyche. Maybe it was his fault, maybe it was the environment in which he always found himself in – there were billions of variables, a psychologist would say. It was difficult to pin-point any one reason in particular as having more influence than any other – it was difficult to task the blame, to put it simply. This was a disappointing and frustrating reality for the Telepath, as it was probably frustrating for others too. Who did they blame for his cynicism? That was certainly part of the equation, certainly a point to be curious about. Myk believed too, that knowing those facts, would go some way into unveiling the type of people he was surrounded by and perhaps adding more weight in one department of blame. Besides that small fact, he did love to unravel people on a purely scientific basis, and maybe in part to prove his father was wrong...

There was a lot of tension in the Garloh household. Myk laughed to himself on yet another cynical thought of his – did people even known his surname? Nobody had asked, so did that mean nobody cared? Did it even matter? What an amusing anecdote. As Myk continued to snicker to himself, Cat decided to leap down from her perch on his lap and take too much of an interest in the Telepath’s wounded leg. She would probably lick his wounds given the chance; Myk shifted his foot to discourage her and then stood up, finally deciding to comply with the feline’s commands. If she was so hungry as to try to chew his leg off, then maybe it was best he got the hell off the couch and fed the poor dear. After all, it had been exactly four hours since the last time she’d been fed and treated to milk. Spoilt brat.

Hobbling along to these small domestic tasks did give the Telepath a chance to return to the last words that Cosimo had spoken:

Cosimo Alessi wrote:

”I will see you around, Myk,”

“Not unless I want you to,” Myk simmered. “Silly rabbit…”