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Her flesh slowly began to fade back into existence; the black blood, the dark substance that resembled tar and moved like smoke, slowed and eventually stopped. When she smelled Trigg’s blood, she stopped breathing. She forced herself to focus on her retreating husband. He’d walked away. He’d really walked away. Panic immediately set in. She took several steps after him. She called out his name. But, inevitably, she went back to Trigg. The bleeding human needed help, and she could give him blood, if nothing else. She could hope that he adopted powers to heal himself, powers to restore the blood he continued to lose. At the forefront of her mind, she thought of Jesse. He’d walked away. He’d really walked away.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled to Trigg, apologizing both for herself and for her husband. The scent of his blood returned and she did her best to reign in her bloodlust, but her inner predator told her to devour him, to drain him dry. She needed to retreat, to put some distance between them; however, she also found something incredibly fascinating about the blood spilling from the wound on his shoulder. Hesitantly, Clo reached out to him. She pressed a hand to the wound on his shoulder, applied pressure in the way that she felt he needed. “Do you need blood? Can you heal yourself? Do you need a hospital?” The questions came without allowing him the opportunity to reply. If he meant to reply, then he had to reply at the end, after she mentioned a hospital.

Though her palm pressed tightly against his shoulder, she spread her fingers. She took in the feel of his blood on her hand, on her fingers. So much blood. Sour, like apples. And, while she stood there, trying to decide whether or not the human needed immediate medical attention, her husband put more and more steps between them. Why hadn’t she chased him? Why hadn’t she left with him? Without a doubt, Trigg needed her more, but Trigg wasn’t her husband. She and the human had been caught together, caught in an embrace that shouldn’t have happened, and yet she remained with him rather than running after her retreating husband.

Clover should have kept her hand pressed to his wound, to maintain pressure and lessen the flow of blood, but she drew her hand away to lick at the blood. She seemed apologetic, for she did mean to assist him, but the blood looked so delicious. As she’d experienced before, she noted that his blood seemed off, not exactly pure. His blood was tainted with vampire blood. “I can probably fix this.” Clo prodded at the wound on his side, the spot where his blood had begun to gather. Yes, the shoulder was worse, but she hadn’t forgotten his side. Her hands weren’t exactly delicate, but she tried. She’d helped Jesse numerous times, so she felt confident that she could assist the human with his wounds; however, helping a vampire and helping a human were two very different things. “Or not,” she finally sighed. “I can teleport you to a hospital,” she decided right then. “I can get there and summon you. We can do that.” She’d decided then, without his permission. “Or I can carry you.” At that point, she had too many options for her to decide on her own. She had too much going on in her head.

Jesse had seen her in Trigg’s embrace. Her husband had seen another man caress her cheek. He’d walked away. ****, he’d walked away. Clo wanted to drive her fingers right into the wound on Trigg’s shoulder, to dig into the injury on his side. She wanted to open the human up and leave him for dead. And yet, she knew she had everything to do with her husband walking away. “He’s not usually violent,” she tried to explain. “He overreacted, and I’m sorry.” As if another apology would remedy Trigg’s wounds, she apologized for a second time. She apologized to him in the way she wanted to apologize to Jesse.

There she went again, this chick with her questions, with her expectations. Her hand against his wound would have been considerate, a necessary pressure to stop the bleeding, but it served as a firm reminder that pain was a thing and he suddenly felt it. Trigg winced loudly, flinching at the touch, trying to pull back but there was nowhere to go. An apology had been given for the events of the night as if it was her fault and not the crazy guy who'd just stabbed them. With shadows. What the ****, who did that? HOW did he do that? It was strange that Trigg was thinking about whether it would be possible to take that ability if he was to get hold of Jesse's blood, if he could just get a mouthful or two. Wrong, wrong thing to be focusing on and he tried to draw his attention back to the woman, to dissect her questions and choose which to answer first. His lips parted, mouth opening in readiness when that hand slid back.

And she licked his blood.

He was dumbstruck. She was watching him bleed, licking his blood from her fingers. He wanted to be furious, felt the anger boiling beneath the surface but then she was talking again. Distraction, movement and words. Trigg was watching her, no doubt looking like a flustered idiot with his wild eyes and mouth hanging open. What the hell was going on? Then more pain and he yelped, an honest to god yelp of pain and surprise. That seemed to be the straw that broke the camels back, the man's face collapsing into creases of fury and stress. "EESH. Stop it." He barked, the sound of his voice harsh, strained. "Stop.
Shut up, chick. You are doing my head in, ja? You're fokkin' mental. Give me a second to... STOP POKING AT MY WOUNDS!" He slapped at those hands to drive them away before changing his mind and reaching for them, trapping them between his own and yanking away perhaps a little too roughly. He just wanted them to stop. It hurt to move in that way, tore at them. "They'll heal. Got your powers, ey." The explanation was given through gritted teeth, trying to convey his message with as few words as possible because he wanted to try and concentrate on healing. The blood was already slowing, clotting and the skin knitting enough to start the process. He wouldn't need a hospital, but he would need blood, and rest, and for a vampire to not stick her fingers deeper into his wounds. "I need to get to a safe place. Fok.
You wanted me to meet THAT guy? Chick, what the hell? China think i'm trying to charf you? Ag, man." His hand shifted to cover his side, taking a deep breath. "This **** stings."

When he shouted at her, she stared at him in a cross between surprise and fascination. He’d shouted at her, really shouted at her, and he intended for her to listen to his instructions. Stop, as if she’d actually stop trying to assist him. But had she been assisting him in any fashion? Probably not, she thought to herself. More than likely, she’d made things worse. She’d withdrawn her hands from his shoulder to lick at the fresh blood. She’d left the injury without the pressure needed to slow the blood flow. If he hadn’t taken her hands in his, she might have continued poking and prodding at his wounds. His blood captured, and held, so much of her attention. Her apologies had been forgotten, even if her husband’s departure weighed heavy on her heart. Yes, Trigg’s shouting punctured her thoughts, but the rest of his words fell to the background, like useless mumblings. The surprise slowly slipped away. The fascination faded. His hands closed around hers, she simply stared at him. She stared at him as if she’d only met him moments before. And maybe his shouting had opened another side to him. Yes, that must have been true.

“Alright,” she sighed, her response lost between his words. She told herself that everything would work out, in the end. She’d remain with Trigg until she knew, for certain, that his wounds wouldn’t whisk his life away. And then she’d go home. She’d return to the apartment. She’d explain herself. Jesse would understand. He had to understand. Everything would work out. “I don’t have a safe place for you,” Clo said. “Wait,” she said, finally thinking about his words. She considered her house. Not her apartment, but her home in Larch Court. “I do, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.” The thought of taking Trigg home seemed wrong. She walked a razor’s edge by giving him her blood, by him giving her his blood. Taking him home seemed like taking things too far. “Don’t you have a home?” It was a thoughtless thing to say, but the words slipped from her lips before she even considered how they sounded, how they would come across. An apology came to life, but she pressed her lips together to keep from uttering the words. She didn’t need to apologize again. She’d apologized enough.

She didn’t know what Trigg meant by charf, but the word sounded bad. She’d slipped her hands from his and slapped them, rather hard. “I wouldn’t charf you either,” she said, sounding offended. After a long moment of silence, she spoke again. “What does that mean? Cheat me out of something?” The expression on her face revealed her confusion, but also her irritation at the thought of him cheating her out of something, namely her blood.

==========AUTOMATED RANDOM EVENTS SYSTEM==========

The group comes across a wounded individual, crying out for help.