Path of the Vampire forum

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Peter Parkman> The library had become like a second home to Peter. Used to be that he'd take the books back to the Asylum with him, because he felt safer there. Now, however, he's at least confident enough to leave, and to wander around. It's amazing what a week can do. He'd just left the raid - he'd met Enver, there. Enver, who'd run off, and who had not had a phone for Peter to borrow. He was in the library because that's where a good computer was, and he could continue to email Keara, seeing as he did not have the telepathic ability that she did. He sat at one of the long tables, another pile of books in front of him - preferring now to read the books inside the library rather than at the Asylum.


<Jersey> Whiskey had calmed her nerves, but not her muscles after seeing that thing that seemed to stare at her before blinking out of view. At first, Jersey had been sick to her stomach at the sight and then terrified. Back in her hotel room, she had gone into denial and found herself drinking. Was it healthy? No. Did she care? No. Once the sun had fallen, Jersey made her way to the library to return a book - with all the talk of vampires in the city, she had amused herself with Anne Rice.


<Peter Parkman>Peter sat so that his back was to a wall, and so that he could see almost the entirety of the library in front of him. He had a good view of the door, and every time it opened with its quiet little hiss, he glanced up from his book - an old, dusty thing that had to be at least two hundred years old. Even if he wanted to, they probably wouldn't let him leave the library with it. It was a journal, of sorts - some guy, writing about his experience with vampires. When next the door opened and Peter glanced up, it was to see a familiar face - a person whose scent seemed to linger around the cabin, some nights. He straightened his shoulders and lifted a hand to get Jersey's attention.


<Jersey> Hearing a police siren go behind her before the door clicked shut, the flinch that had gone through her body caused her to slap herself mentally as she pulled her jacket closer around her body. 'You can stop being paranoid. It didn't follow you.' She thought and looked about, a small smile playing across her lips at the sight of Peter. She raised her hand in greeting, making her way quietly to the table he occupied. After the first day with walking the dogs, she had fallen in a puddle of mud and gone shopping after that incident as evident in her black jeans and a dark, navy blue longsleeve blouse. "Surprised to see you here." Once she spoke, she shivered lightly and looked about once more. Damn delusions.

<Peter Parkman>Peter closed his book and pushed it aside. There was something about Jersey's demeanour that asked for Peter's full attention, and he gave it to her. He was a little calmer tonight than he was the last time he'd met her. "Finished early tonight," he said. He hadn't been to work at all, but she didn't need to know that. He gave a grin when she said she'd be afraid to lose him. He reached his hand out, as if wanting to take her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze, but didn't get quite so far. "Try me," he said.


<Jersey> She glanced at the book and thought that it looked as if it were going to fall apart from age before her green eyes met Peter's and she gave a nod of her head. "Ah, makes sense." She smiled a bit before biting her bottom lip in thought. "There... was this big shadow-y... thing." She couldn't call it a human, no. The creature was a monster. "It was on all fours and stared at me, or well. I think it did, didn't have eyes." She shuddered once more, looking around as if she'd see it once more as fear crossed her features, "and then poof. It was gone. I know I saw it. No meds. No alcohol," Granted, she did finish a bottle afterwards, "It was straight out of a nightmare."

<Peter Parkman>Peter did smell the alcohol on Jersey's breath, that much was clear. He didn't point it out, though. His brows furrowed; he wasn't about to tell her she was going crazy, even though what she described was something he'd never seen before. He itched to head back over to the computer to email Keara, to ask her if she knew what it was. Instead, he stayed right where he was and cleared his throat. He glanced at his stack of books, debating with himself about what he should say. When he turned back to Jersey, he gave her a crooked smile. "You'll find this city is a bit... weird. Not just the people in it, but... I don't know. There are things I've seen, too. Things I've uhm... experienced. I'm not going to call you crazy, even if that's something I've never seen before," he said. He didn't think it would be right to lie to her. She did need to know that sometimes, the place wasn't as safe as she'd like it to be.


<Jersey> "I drank after," She explained on another breath, her hands moving to rub over her face carefully as if not to jostle the small bandage on her face, "calmed me down." She mumbled almost pitifully before she peeked at him between her fingers when he cleared his throat. Seeing him glance away, she was almost afraid he'd agreed she was nuts and was that he was trying to think of a way to walk away. As he spoke and didn't run, his answered helped reassure her. "I've stopped drinking the water from faucets," She mumbled from behind her hands before lowering them as her arms crossed and she let them rest on the table. "This place is starting to scare me." She admitted.

<Peter Parkman>Fact was, Peter was beginning to get a little scared for Jersey. It was all there, on the tip of his tongue. The truth about everything. Would it hurt? Maybe. But she did say he was her only friend. And even then she hesitated to tell him what she thought she'd seen. Instead, he laughed; that calming laugh, the one that isn't sharp and derisive, but instead an attempt to sooth. Just like the whiskey she'd drunk. "Trust me, I don't think it's the water," he said. "What else have you... I mean why else is the place starting to scare you?" he asked.


<Jersey> "Well, that's reassuring." She sighed before setting her chin on her arms for a few moments, watching him quietly while she tried to relax even more. A white-hot pain shot up her shoulder that caused her to wince and she sat up once more, not wanting to agitate it. "I got shot by a cop..." The memory of finding the wound, even if it were pretty much a scratch, upset her enough to send her into multiple sobbing sessions compared with the memory loss hitting her. "And I've been bothered by thieves twice," She didn't mention she'd shot the second after getting her pistol out just in time, "The first didn't get anything. Second did." Jersey gave a heavy exhale, "And at another bank, some chick screamed about a woman trying to eat her, calling her a vampire."

<Peter Parkman>"Jesus," Peter muttered. He wondered what was worse. The normal things like cops and thieves or the latter - vampires. He'd had no experience with the former, but plenty with the latter. "Why should a cop want to shoot you?" he asked. "I think maybe you need a bodyguard..." he said. "You should just keep Hunter with you at all times. I'll allow it," he said with a small smile, trying to lighten the girl's mood but probably failing miserably.


<Jersey> "I don't know." The words almost sounded whiney to her and she automatically flashed him an apologetic look as she exhaled and rubbed at her face once more, somehow managing a small snort of laughter before she ran her fingers through her hair once more. She still debated upon fixing the dark roots. "That's sweet of you."


<Peter Parkman>This time, when Peter reached forward, he did take one of Jersey's hands to give it a reassuring squeeze. "You're not crazy," he said, his tone low. He knew that a vampire ran this place. He knew that it was against the 'rules' to tell humans about vampires, to show them, to make them aware. He didn't think he was going to break any of those rules, but every second that passed with that pained look on Jersey's face, he was thoroughly tempted. "Just try to stick to crowded areas. Don't walk around alone at night. Okay?" he said. He wanted her to be safe. He couldn't demand things from her, but he could be very stern when he wanted to be.


<Jersey> Lightly, she covered his hand with her free one and she blinked, surprised at how cold he was but not thinking anything of it while she leaned forward to hear him better. "What the hell is going on in this city, Peter?" She asked as she frowned, and then she gave a nod of her head in understanding. After seeing that thing, it was safe to say that Jersey wasn't too thrilled about going anywhere alone.

<Peter Parkman>"Maybe it's best if you don't know," Peter mumbled, head bowed, really not wanting to be overheard. "Bad things could happen to both you and me if anyone find out you know, that I told you. And besides, you'll be the one thinks I'm crazy if I were to utter a word," Peter said with a weak smile. Now he could begin to fret again, just like he had in the cafe - except this time, it would be because he was completely aware of doing something wrong. He remembered the last full conversation he'd had with his sire; the way she said she'd hunted humans. He doubted this is what she meant, but still. There were those who would hunt a human just for what they knew. He shook his head as he licked his lips. "No, it's probably best if you don't know..."


<Jersey> He confused her and it was clearly visible as she dipped her head slightly to get a better look of his face. She didn't understand and she wanted to, but he thought it was best she didn't know? Subconsciously, she squeezed his hand and pulled on her bottom lip. After a while, she spoke quietly, "Alright." And then she gave a shake of her head and a low chuckle, "I think it's safe to say after today, I don't think I could. That... thing. It just vanished. It was there. I know it was though."


<Peter Parkman>"I have no doubt it probably was. I'll uhm... I'll ask about it," he said. He was more comfortable, now that Jersey didn't press him for more details. He almost expected that she would. He relaxed a little and didn't move to retrieve his cold hand from her grasp, not really thinking about the fact that his would not warm up, no matter how long she held it. He dropped into uneasy silence, only glancing away to make sure no one was watching, or listening, before turning back to Jersey.

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--


<Jersey> Jersey watched him quietly, thinking uneasily about what he had - or rather, he hadn't, told her - and she had learned that no matter how hard she tried, everything showed in her expressions and her eyes. She didn't like it, not knowing... but if bad things could happen to both of them, she didn't want to risk it. Asking about it... who would know about something like that? "Thank you." She whispered.

<Peter Parkman>Another thing that had come up in his conversation with Keara had to do with trust. His sire had seemed surprised that Peter trusted her so willingly, after what she had done to him, and how. Peter pondered the meaning of trust, now, and how easily it was for him. And as he watched Jersey, and the fleeting emotions that crossed her face like a script from a movie, he realised that she must be afflicted with easy trust, too. She thanked him. She believed him. She did not push. She was not afraid of him, and the fact that he might be slightly crazy for just saying that he knew something that he could not tell her. "Consider it an adventure, maybe," he said. He wasn't quite sure what else he could say.


<Jersey> The woman gave a small laugh, the sound making Jersey think she was on the verge of crying again before she stopped, squeezing his hand once more. She was slowly drawing to the end of it her wit and lightly, she nodded. "An adventure. In Wonderland. Does that make me Alice?" She joked, her question showing she was trying to make light of the situation and her nerves, "and you, the white rabbit?"


<Peter Parkman>"Sure, yeah. Why not?" Peter said, his thick brows furrowed in consternation. He could see right past her laugh--could hear in it the hysterics he himself had been quite close to for a while, and which he was only just starting to slip away from. "Beatrix Potter certainly thought 'Peter' was a good name for a rabbit. And it all worked out fine for Alice. So you're going to be fine," he said with another reassuring smile, his own fingers squeezing a little tighter in response to Jersey's own pressure.


<Jersey> "Cuter than a rabbit though, for sure." She didn't know if she said it aloud and lightly, she smiled back at him before she gave a nod of her head, "Yeah. I will." After another moment of panic later on in the evening. Her eyes fell to the table, thinking quietly about everything that had been said. At least the confusion was winning now over her fear.


<Peter Parkman>"Not at all," Peter said. "You don't think rabbits are cute? They're all fluffy, and their noses twitch," he said, trying to twitch his own nose but only really managing to scrunch it up weirdly. I'm too tall and ... disproportionate. And have you seen these eyebrows?" he points to them, looking up as if trying to look at them himself. "They're like hairy caterpillars," he says.


<Jersey> So it was out loud. Jersey mentally slapped her forehead, hard. "I think they're cute, I think you're more attractive, caterpillar eyebrows or not." She needed to stop talking and as she felt embarrassed, she considered hiding behind her hair before she finally relaxed in her chair. Hesitantly, she moved her hand off enough that if he wanted his own back, the chance was there.


<Peter Parkman>Peter laughed, and got a bubble of air stuck in his throat; the laugh turned into a cough. He wasn't exactly used to being complimented, and he had to wonder whether Jersey may not have had too much to drink. He'd been far too preoccupied with trying to keep himself a secret, last time, to actually really pay attention to who he was speaking to. "I'm nothing in comparison to you. The female species, I think, were created to be much more alluring than the men," he mumbled, feeling that a compliment ought to be returned. It was dangerous territory to tread, however. As much as he might have been interested - how long had it been since he'd actually been interested in a female, or at least had it returned? - she was human, and he was vampire. And he needed to keep himself a secret. He cleared his throat and bowed his head. His hand stayed where it was.


<Jersey> She squeezed his hand appreciatively and studied the man quietly underneath her lashes. While she might've been a little tipsy, enough hours had passed that she wouldn't make a fool of herself. Granted, as she let out a small sigh, she could smell the alcohol on her breath and closed her eyes for a few moments. 'Seems otherwise.' She opened her eyes and glanced around the library afterwards.


<Peter Parkman>General conversation was something that Peter was out of practice with. He talked to the dogs all the time, but they never did respond. Talking with another person was an entirely different story. He hummed under his breath. "What have you been reading?" he asked, finally. A safe question to ask, surely, in the middle of a library. "Oh! I probably owe you some money. When did we decide I'd pay you? And in cash, right?" he asked.


<Jersey> "Anne Rice, it seems to fit the mood of the city with the rumors floating about here." She explained, turning her gaze back to him before chuckling. "But also some classics, such as The Illiad." When he mentioned payment, she gave a light shake of her head, "We didn't, I don't think, and either works for me."


<Peter Parkman>"Okay," Peter said. "If you have a bank account you'd prefer me to transfer it to, you'd have to give me details," he said. He hadn't really thought about what the rate should be, but decided on the fly that he'd probably be generous. "The Illiad I approve of. Have never read any Anne Rice," he said. "Ragnarok is good. As well as uhm... Dante's Inferno," he said. He did like his classics.


<Jersey> Reluctantly moving her hand from his, she collected a notepad that she carried around and flipped to an empty page - random thoughts were jotted down in cursive. "I've read Dante's Inferno, as well as Ovid's Metamorphoses. I have The Aeneid back in my hotel room, with them." She had purchased them all. Writing down the details, she slid them over to him before writing down Ragnarok and set her pen down.

<Peter Parkman>Peter folded the paper with the details on it and slipped it safely into his wallet. "Tom Holland is also one of my favourite authors," Peter said. "His non-fiction stuff," he added, hastily. He suddenly remembered Tom Holland had also written his lesser known vampyre novels. "He write about history. Adam Phillips is good, too. If you're into philosophy," Peter said. "Metamorphoses is great," he said.


<Jersey> "I read just about everything," She smiled lightly to him as she wrote down the names before she crossed one leg under herself and closed once eye against a wince as she bumped her shoulder against the chair. If it wasn't her eyebrow bothering her, it was her back. "It is."


<Peter Parkman>"I think maybe I should re-read it," he said with a frown. He'd pulled his hand back and allowed his long fingers to curl around the old book he'd previously pushed aside. He was comforted by it; he was comforted by the thought that a book could teach him to accept what he had become, and what had been done to him. He had been metamorphosed, in the most drastic way. He almost wished he could talk to Jersey about it. Have a nice good and long philosophical conversation. That wasn't possible, though. "Books are like keys to the soul of the world, don't you think?" he asked.


<Jersey> "The words are comforting, and it's nice to have something around being able to just give me a portal somewhere when I'm in need of a distraction," She looked at the book she'd set down, tapping the cover with her hand before she got up and went to put it quickly in the return bin. She sat back down, this time next to him but keeping a bit of distance between the two. "But I definitely agree."

<Peter Parkman>Peter looked at the books spread out in front of him as Jersey got up to return her own book. There was a book on the history of Harper Rock, one that he'd read before but which he wanted to read again. There was a book about mythical creatures; a bit ridiculous, and not very helpful. There was also a compilation of Byron's works. There were all these conspiracies that Byron was actually a vampyre. Peter wondered whether he'd be able to glean anything from the poetry, but realised that he just ended up enjoying the poetry for what it was. He leaned back and folded his hands in his lap as Jersey sat down again beside him. "Right. You're never alone if you have a book with you," he said.


<Jersey> "But sometimes the company of another human being is like no other." She grinned gently at him before she turned her head lightly to look at the books in front of her, "Now what have you been reading?" She chuckled, looking back to the man beside her as she crossed one leg over the other, "And, you'll be happy to know that my white jeans from the hot chocolate incident survived the ordeal."

<Peter Parkman>Jersey may have grinned, but Peter grimaced. The company of another human being? And here he was, not exactly a human being but only parading as one. Wearing a mask, as it were. He could keep pretending, for Jersey's sake. "Things. Nothing too interesting," he said. "You could say I have a bit of an interest in myths," he said, his shoulders slumping forward. "Good, I'm glad! Can't have the death of white jeans. They're a rare breed," he said with an uneasy smile.


<Jersey> She caught the grimace and wondered what it was about, her hand moving to his shoulder to give it a light squeeze after both had slumped forward. "They do go hand in hand with history." She chimed quietly, her green eyes studying him once more and the uneasy smile before she gave a nod, "They are." She agreed.

<Peter Parkman>This time, unlike the last times, Peter did not tense. He seemed to be getting used to this woman and her tendency to touch. He canted his head a little in her direction, smiling a little. He liked this place, this library. It was a comfort, with all its books and its histories. In here, it was like the world outside didn't exist. It could be kept at bay. "I think I could live in here if they'd let me," he said, staring at the books and the wood grain of the table in front of them.


<Jersey> She smiled at him in return gently, her hand falling back to her thigh while she thought about his words, looking around the library quietly and then at him, following his gaze to the table afterwards, "Understandable." She smiled once more.

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Peter Parkman> Peter raised his head. It was a lie, really. He couldn't possibly live in the library. What would happen to his dogs? He was slowly coming out of his shell. He was like a turtle. He moved very slowly, and when startled he hid, letting the shadows envelope him like comforting blankets. The night Keara and Enver turned him, he was so damned startled he hid the deepest in his shell that he'd hidden in a very long time. His head was only now starting to peer out at the world, to again slowly move forward. He took a short breath. "Going to borrow any more books?" he asked, in a bid to keep the conversation moving.


<Jersey> Jersey didn't have many friends. She didn't talk to many. Actually. She really only talked to Peter and his dogs, Mora on rare occasions. Her lips pressed together in thought, her hair falling lightly in front of her face before it was tucked back behind her ear. "I may, haven't decided yet. I was thinking about looking for a copy of the Grimm fairy tales." She admitted, but to be honest, she didn't quite know why. She had been looking online for some after overhearing a woman talking about fairies. "What about yourself?" She questioned lightly, thinking about other titles she wanted to read. There were just too many.


<Peter Parkman> Peter shook his head. "I just sit here and read them. I have plenty of books at home already," he said, truthfully. He wouldn't be taking any of these home - even the Byron. He was sure he had some Byron on his shelves, somewhere. She walks in darkness.... Or was that Keats? He shook his head. He didn't really know his poetry as well as he should. "I'm sure they'd have to have some Grimm in here, somewhere," he said vaguely, standing from the table with the intention of going to look.


<Jersey> "That's understandable." She chuckled, watching him quietly in thought while she looked over the books once more that he had been reading. "Do you like Poetry?" She asked, spotting the book before her green eyes went to him once more when he stood. Jersey debated on following, ultimately standing up and doing so as she tucked her hands into the pockets of her jeans. "I'd hope so, if not I'll have to ask my boss, she owns this library too," She chewed on her bottom lip, "I work at her organic beauty products place, about getting some."


<Peter Parkman> Peter tripped. It would seem that he tripped on thin air. She mentioned her boss owning the library, too - so her boss was a vampire, then. This startled Peter more than it should have; maybe it was a good thing. Maybe it was another person who'd try to protect her, rather than harm her. He cleared his throat as he regained his balance without falling face flat against the ground. "You got a job, then? That's good," he said, long fingers grazing against the spines of the books though his brain could not focus. Could not remember what he was looking for. "I'm starting to like poetry. I haven't really read much before recently."


<Jersey> When he tripped, Jersey moved to help steady him with a frown playing across her lips. 'And I thought I was a spaz.' She tried not to snicker. At the mention of a job, she gave a nod of her head, "She noticed I was kind of having a bad day, we got to talking," She explained lightly, "Mora is her name." She let go of him and tucked her hands back into the pockets of her jeans, watching him quietly as she inclined her head. "You should, I've found a few anthologies that I like."


<Peter Parkman> Mora. Peter tucked the name away. He felt like he wanted to talk to this Mora, to make sure she meant no harm toward Jersey. Of course, why should she? She seemed to be a bleeding heart, just like Peter was. Except she'd actually had something real and solid to offer the girl, rather than just a random job walking dogs--which was probably more of a hassle rather than a blessing. He nodded. "Recommend me some?" Peter said. If he was going to get started on poetry, he wanted the good stuff. He drew a sharp breath, and added: "You don't have to walk the dogs anymore, if you have a proper job, if it's too much..." he said, turning worried eyes toward Jersey.


<Jersey> "I can't remember their names," She removed her hands from her pockets and set them in front of her form while she scanned the names quietly, pausing to crouch down and collect a title every now to read the back or inside cover in debate, "But Robert Frost, Walt Whitman, and William Butler Yeats are poets that have been catching my eye. I look online every now and then." She flashed a grin in his direction, tucking a book underneath her arm afterwards as she stood, tugging down the back of her shirt lightly. His next words made her blink a few times at him before she gave a shake of her head, "It's part-time, and I enjoy walking them. It gets me on a normal schedule." The exercise had also been helping her sleep more often, tiring her out.


<Peter Parkman> Peter circled around to where the computer was. He typed in the names, in order to find the references to the books, so that he might be able to find them. He had a pen, and he wrote the numbers on the underside of his palm; it was easier, now. He didn't sweat. The ink clung to the skin easier. "Okay, good," he said. He'd noticed the dogs had been happier and less restless when he went to them. The hired walker was doing them good. He also looked up Grimm - and found a couple, that would be in the same section. He offered another smile as he he began to wander, to see if the books were available--he pointed out the section where the fairytales lived.


<Jersey> With two books underneath her arms, she followed after him to the computer and turned lightly to look over the remaining individuals in the library. She wouldn't admit it out loud, but she felt safer around Peter and he had certainly helped calm her down during their conversation - she no longer looked as if she were going to jump out of her skin at any second if something startled her. "I bought a few extra toys for them, by the way," She didn't know if he had noticed or not, but she'd grown fond of the animals quickly and would likely spoil them in that manner for as long as the two were friends, "They're very well behaved." She returned his smile, pausing every now and then to look at another book. It was usually how she ended up with multiple being carried back to her hotel room.


<Peter Parkman> Peter rolled his eyes. "Don't be spending all your pay packet on the dogs, now. That's not conducive to getting by," he said, even though he himself was guilty of doing the same thing. He didn't have much money, especially now seeing as he was working less and less hours. He was certain they were going to fire him, soon. And he wondered whether he minded. He didn't have to teach to be an academic. He could write articles from home, and then he wouldn't have to deal with the students. Less people meant less anxiety about giving himself away. "I think dogs are empathetic creatures. They know what we're feeling. They don't misbehave if they don't think we deserve it," he said, slowly, easing a couple of the poetry tomes off the shelf, reveling in the smell of the old, dusty pages.


<Jersey> "It's going to be an occasional thing, and considering they didn't knock me on my *** constantly, I thought they deserved a treat." She chuckled while she walked, collecting the Grimm tales off the shelf before she chuckled, good for the time being as she inclined her head lightly. Before her thoughts went too far from friendly, Jersey straightened up and rubbed the back of her neck lightly. "That would make a lot of sense, they're very wonderful animals. I'm fond of all of them." She chuckled and looked at the titles of books quietly, collecting Against Forgetting: Twentieth Century Poetry of Witness. She had a copy of it in her bag in the hotel that she had just began to read, "This has been relatively dark... but it focuses on the social extremities. It's organized by the historical events that influenced each poem."


<Peter Parkman> Peter laughed and smiled as he took the book that was offered to him. "Well, well. You're getting to know me quite well, aren't you?" he asked. "Perfect," he said, fingers stroking the cover of the book as if by doing so, he'd be able to learn all its deepest, darkest secrets. "I think the only one capable of knocking you on your *** is Hunter. He might, every now and again, forget his size - has he tried crawling into your lap to try to sleep, yet? - but he had a bad history. People didn't treat him right, so he's more meek than most Great Danes," Peter said. He knew all the histories of his dogs, all of them given to him by the people who worked at the shelter.


<Jersey> She shrugged one of her shoulders, tensing slightly at the pull of her injury before the pain faded afterwards, "I'm observant and I like watching you." Because that didn't sound creepy at all and Jersey closed her eyes, the open palm of her free hand connecting with her forehead as she caught it. "That wasn't supposed to come out that way. I mean, pretty much yes, but you learn a lot from just observing and we have talked about the fact you enjoy history before." Removing her hand and opening her eyes, she frowned and then gave a nod of her head, "He has, yes. I was sitting down while they were running around, he's a really sweet boy. I don't really mind it."


<Peter Parkman> If he'd been walking, Peter might have tripped again. He was standing still, however, and thus didn't give any physical sign that he was discomfited by the fact that she watched him. How much could she glean just by watching? Was she so observant that she might figure out he wasn't quite human? Has she noticed, the the only times she's seen him so far have been at night, and never during the day? "I'm boring to watch," he said, turning away to make his way back to the desk--he put down the new books, and picked up the old ones to carry them over to the returns bin.


<Jersey> "That's your opinion, I find you interesting." She stated while she sat down quietly, pulling her hair back behind her shoulders while she stacked her books quietly in a neat order. Was it an embarassing thing to admit? Yes. Did she care? Not particularly. She liked being honest with him.


<Peter Parkman> Peter almost had a split personality. Those in Vedarian would notice it, if they met him face to face; the things that he said and did on the Crownet were far cheekier and forward than anything that he would say or do when face to face with someone; he had to bite his tongue, and had to remember what he was. And what she was. Had to clamp down on that part of himself that started to dance and sing like some happy cult member in the sunshine and the long grass. "Well you should stop finding me interesting," he snapped, maybe a little too harsh. He immediately regretted it. He dropped onto the seat beside Jersey and shook his head. "Sorry."


<Jersey> Jersey didn't flinch when she'd heard his tone and her green eyes simply stared at him as if to say 'Seriously, Peter?' while a frown played across her lips. It had hurt and she didn't know why she had the urge to slap him - probably because he was the only person she really conversed with other than customers. 'Must've been something I would've done in the past if that happened.' She thought unhappily to herself before she leaned forward and hesitated, her hand reaching up as if to brush her fingertips against his cheek before it rested back on her thigh. She spoke softly, "You're afraid of something. I understand that. Whatever it is, Peter, don't worry for me. You'll drive yourself mad." She whispered.


<Peter Parkman> He shook his head and leaned in close to Jersey, his own green eyes very deep, and very serious. When he spoke his voice was almost like a whisper, but the deep baritone couldn't quite be vanquished. "If you stay interested, and you keep watching, and you see something that you shouldn't, I might be cleared but you'll still put yourself in danger," he said, the words in a gushing rush. They'd come full circle, and they were back on that dreaded topic again. "It's not that I'm not flattered - I am, and regardless would still have no idea how to respond," he added, the last bit said with an honest sigh as he leaned away, finger scratching at a piece of lint on the knee of his jeans.


<Jersey> She had taken note of his behavior earlier when they were on the topic and then lightly nodded her head towards the door, "Let's go for a walk." She suggested and stood, collecting her jacket and her books as she headed to go check them out after her arms were in the sleeves. She had dressed in layers underneath her blouse and jeans, so the cold wouldn't bother her as much as it had the first night they met. It seemed that was a persistent person, she noticed, and tucked that information away for something else to write down at a later time in the evening.


<Peter Parkman> Unlike Jersey, Peter had not brought a coat and gloves. He'd come here alone, and had never entertained the thought that he wouldn't leave alone. The night that he was turned, his sire had been running around like some woman from the caveman ages, in only a short skirt and a top that didn't even cover her midriff. Peter had followed her lead, in that he didn't bother rugging up against the cold that couldn't touch him. He hesitated, but Jersey wasn't asking. She was commanding. It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Full of dread and anxiety, Peter stood. He, too, checked out some books, sliding them carefully into the messenger bag that he slung over his shoulders. He pulled the thin material of his cardigan down to his wrists, but to any onlooker it definitely wasn't enough for any normal person to wear out in the current weather. But he did it anyway.


<Jersey> She hadn't realized he was without a coat and as she turned after opening the door to hold it for him, the frown that crossed her lips showed it. "You're going to freeze your *** off." He had told her he was a local before, but this was ridiculous, but then again, was it? She had seen others walking around in less. There seemed to be varying tolerances to the cold weather. After a few moments, she glanced outside and then back up to him, "Perhaps somewhere... quieter and private?" Her hotel room was an option, it wasn't too far, but she didn't particularly want the man to die of embarrassment or discomfort.


<Peter Parkman> The Adam's apple bobbed surreptitiously in his throat, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans and his shoulders hunched forward in that way that he had, like he wanted to fold in on himself and hide from everyone, become as small as possible. Quieter and more private? Did she have something in mind? Easily persuadable, however, Peter nodded. "Sure. And I'm fine," he said, though he consciously tried to make himself look like he was freezing, and that he was just acting tough.


<Jersey> She bought his acting and looked concerned while she stepped closer, "My hotel isn't far from here, and no, I'm not trying to get you there to sleep with you." She knew he probably wasn't thinking that, but with men and the cat calling, and the 'hookers' she supposed in the city, she thought it wouldn't hurt to say it. "I'm working to save up an apartment sometime." She explained before glancing around and stepping out into the cold. Compared to the warmth of the library, it was like a freezer and she sucked in a quick breath of air, exhaling with a hiss.


<Peter Parkman> "OhIdidn'tthink, I mean, I didn't... you know," he shook his head, his eyes wide. It had been so long since he'd even thought about sex, or anything associated with it, her comment caught him off guard. "I mean, not that I wouldn't, that you'd not...." Peter, too, sucked in a breath in order to keep himself from saying anything else. He did not exhale like she did. He'd give himself away again. He was supposed to be freezing, and yet didn't breath steam. "You don't like the turn-down service, then?" he asked, quickly changing the subject.


<Jersey> She laughed, her face burned with embarrassment, but she laughed and she reached over to give his shoulder a light squeeze before she walked in the direction of her hotel, giving a shake of her head, "I don't mind it, but it's more so the fact... it's not mine?" She lifted an eyebrow as if that made any sense, "I like the idea of being able to decorate my own way and kind of not be concerned about my papers everywhere."


<Peter Parkman> Peter nodded, releasing his breath slowly, bit by bit, taking his time to respond. "Yeah, I get that. And they probably wouldn't allow you to have dogs, huh?" he asked with a grin. He didn't know what he'd do without his pets; he'd even gone ahead and asked Keara if she'd mind him having them at the Asylum. She said she didn't mind at all - said he should make the place his home. But he wouldn't just yet. Wouldn't, so long as Jersey was walking them. If he cut her off from that job... maybe it would be better. But he didn't want to.


<Jersey> After checking the ground for ice and when she was glad to see it was clear, Jersey bumped him lightly with her hip and returned the grin softly. "No, which kind of sucks." She had checked after mentioning the idea of getting a pet of sometime, fish were fine. Dogs or cats, however, weren't. She considered, however, after she'd move into another place, that she'd get either a puppy or a kitten. She hadn't made her mind up yet. She was quiet for a little while before looking around, surprised to see the streets almost empty before she spoke once more, "What did you mean that you would have no idea how to respond?" She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes before looking up at the sky.


<Peter Parkman> For a second, Peter had no idea what she was referring to. And then he remembered what he'd said earlier, in that moment of haste and anxiety; the things he said when in regret of harshness. When he did remember, he looked away, as if searching for some miraculous idea of an answer. There was no harm in honesty in this area, however, and he was sick of lying about everything else. "Meaning, hrm..." he paused. She said he was interesting, and she complimented his looks, but that didn't mean at all that she was interested in other things. He had a feeling he was about to make a very large fool of himself. "I'm very out of practice with uhm.... flirting, and things," he said with a shy smile, only risking a very small glance in Jersey's direction.


<Jersey> That surprised her and it was clear across her features as she walked beside him, "May I ask why?" She didn't expect the man to be a complete recluse, but then again, she had no room to say anything or even consider it. "So tell me... what if I were interested in flirting and things?" Her green eyes showed her amusement as she caught his glance and then thought about the rest he had said, her arms folding behind her head, "And technically I put myself in danger every day when I leave my hotel room in this hell hole. I doubt being interested in you would make it that much more dangerous."


<Peter Parkman> "Maybe you won't think I'm one of the crazy ones if you see it rather than ...." he mumbled so low that she might not have heard properly. He shook his head. "I've got a bit of a rocky past," he said, a little louder. "I don't really want to talk about it," he said, not harshly, not with an edge of defense, but with pure honesty. He started to feel as if his human secrets were far less important now that he had bigger ones to worry about. But he kept them nonetheless. He laughed, then, with a bit of a scoff. "I'm sorry. I'm not much of an open book, am I?"


<Jersey> She lifted her eyebrow, not catching anything but the end before she then gave a soft nod of her head in understanding when he said he didn't want to talk about it. "That's understandable." It was her turn to give a shy smile before she chuckled. As they approached the hotel, she reached into her pocket for her keys, "Not like the ones I usually read," Jersey explained lightly, "but honestly, I think that's one of the main reasons you interest me other than the fact... well, you actually seem to care."


<Peter Parkman> He realised that he hadn't answered the second question. His eyes widened as he watched her with her keys, his own hands still shoved quiet deep into his pockets. He tucked his elbows in at the sides, pushing them against his torso--yet another way to try to make himself look smaller. And which perhaps made him look a little colder, as if he were trying to warm himself rather than hide himself. "I do care," he said, and then: "Are you?" Maybe he didn't really want to know the answer. But he'd asked the question already, and he probably needed to clarify. "Interested in flirting and things?" he asked.

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Jersey> Jersey moved to open the door leading into the hotel, her features showing her concern as she saw the way he was walking before she stepped out of the way to let him in. The woman motioned to the elevator as she answered, "I appreciate that more than you know." She chewed on her bottom lip. She glanced about for what she thought was the billionth time that night and inwardly thanked whatever god there was that thing wasn't around. With her luck, she'd probably faint. "I am." When the two words were out, she was surprised she had answered it and her skin turned red, her gaze going anywhere but to Peter.


<Peter Parkman> "Oh," he said, kind of stuck there in front of the elevator with the expression of a stunned mullet, jaw dropped just that tiny bit, his green eyes luminescent under the brighter lights. "Well I'm not very good at it. Just to warn you, and probably won't uhm... recognise it," he said. And why not keep to the habit of brutal honesty? He removed his hand from his pocket so he could punch the little 'up' button. The hand returned to the pocket from when it had come.


<Jersey> Letting the door shut behind her, she moved up to his side and shrugged out of her jacket once more before reaching up and pushing his jaw back together lightly. Her eyebrow lifted, clearly amused once more before she gave a nod of her head, "Well. I guess we'll have to just be patient and humor each other sometimes, hm?" Jersey pinched her eyebrows together lightly. What did 'and things' even entitle? It was one of those random add ons that her brain threw in there occasionally to throw her off and it worked.


<Peter Parkman> Humor each other? What did she mean by that? What was he going to humor? He had no idea what he was doing here, with her. For all his inner scoldings, for all his vows not to give anything away--he should be spending less time with her. And yet he'd followed her here, like he'd taken lessons from his dogs rather that the other way around. Jersey wasn't the stray. Peter was, and he'd been very willingly taken home. "Ohgod," he muttered to himself, swallowing again as the elevator doors dinged and slid open. He stood on the threshold just staring at the open space. Only after two beats did he realise there were mirrors inside, and that he wasn't reflecting in them. "Stairs!" he shouted, a little too loudly. "I have to take the stairs..." he added, ducking away from the open elevator doors and circling in the middle of the lobby, looking for the door to the stairway.


<Jersey> And there was the confusion as she stuck her hand out to catch the door before he ducked away, "Okay." She thought that maybe he had a fear of elevators and then stepped out, adjusting her hold on her books as she moved over to grab his shoulder. "Peter," She then pointed to the stairway, "I'll walk with you." Jersey gave a soft chuckle, "You're acting strange tonight. I hope you're okay."


<Peter Parkman> "Maybe I'm just one of those crazy people and you're making a huge mistake bringing me home," he said, following her point to the stairway. She was doing it again, that touching thing. She liked to do that a lot. He did not catch her eye, because he had continued on the vein of being terribly honest. He strode toward the door, opening it. The lights were harsh inside. "You don't have to walk with me," he said, glancing upward. "What floor are you on?"


<Jersey> "Well, considering we're in a public lobby and if you do something to me, not only is it my fault, but you'll be known to having been with me." She gave a shake of her head lightly before telling him the floor and room number, "I guess I'll meet you up there then." She smiled at him lightly and then walked back to the elevator.


<Peter Parkman> He grimaced. He wanted to scold her for having that kind of mindset. Didn't matter that they were seen together. He could still do something to her, and the outcome on her end would be exactly the same. Might be he'd get away with it. Of course he wasn't going to do anything to her. He knew that. But she didn't. Nor did he expect her to walk away; it was a kindness, telling her she didn't have to. But he was glad that she didn't. Stairs weren't everyone's cup of tea. Peter walked into the stairwell, and the door clicked shut behind him. All he could hear was the buzzing of the lights. He sighed, the sound echoing from the walls, close around him. As he stood there for a few seconds, he considered leaving. Yes, he would leave, he told himself. When he began to move, however, it was to trudge up the stairs. "What are you doing, Peter," he asked himself, the name still somewhat foreign to him. But it suited. It was like he was talking to alter ego, whose actions he wasn't exactly happy with. He reached the required floor and found the door to her room. She would have made it there before him. He knocked.


<Jersey> When she was in the elevator, Jersey subsconsciously double checked to see if the pocket pistol still remained in her jacket and when she felt it's weight, she knew she wouldn't have to use it. Call her naive, call her optimistic, but she wasn't afraid of Peter. He had gone from calmed to almost... panicked. Was that the right word? Jersey pressed her lips together lightly and exhaled before making her way to the room. Picking up a few discarded pieces of clothing from the floor and then changing her longsleeve shirt into a lighter colored v-neck teeshirt, Jersey tossed the clothes into the hamper just as he knocked. "Coming," Although she probably would have simply yelled that the door was open any other day, but she wondered if he'd lecture her about being safe as she checked the peephole before opening the door up to him to reveal the modern decorated room.


<Peter Parkman> Again, he hesitated before moving forward. Again, he swallowed as that step over the threshold - he almost expected some magic to push him back, as she had not said the words 'you can come in'. The invitation was there, though, whether voiced out loud or not. Or maybe it was just because it was a hotel room. He didn't know how it worked, but he breathed a sigh of relief as soon as he was inside. He noticed that she'd changed. It was warmer inside the room. He removed his hands from his pockets to first take off his bag, and then peel his cardigan off; he wore only an old, white v-neck t-shirt underneath. He balled the removed cardigan up between his hands, and his bag was at his feet. He rocked backwards on his heels awkwardly, before falling forward onto his toes. "They never do really feel like a home, do they?" he asked, commenting on the hotel room.


<Jersey> She pushed the door shut and blinked at him, "You are allowed to come further in, Peter..." She chuckled, giving a soft shake of her head while she went to sit down on the couch quietly after removing her shoes, "No," She stated answering his question, a frown playing across her lips, "but I got lucky finding it and the owners are nice." And understanding, she thought quietly to herself as she leaned forward carefully. The muscles in her back stretched in protest, hurting the healing injury there as she inclined her head and studied him lightly. She didn't want to spook him off, but the question was on the tip of her tongue. "Peter, why do you care so much about me?"


<Peter Parkman> He meticulously nudged his bag into a corner by the door, so as not to be tripped on, and left his bunched up cardigan on top. He rubbed his palms against the legs of his jeans as he followed Jersey to the couch--she then asked her question and he paused, glancing around as if looking for somewhere else to sit other than right beside her. But he did end up sitting right beside her, with his hands trapped between his knees. The corner of his lip lifted up in half a smile. "I think any person who heard your story and didn't want to help just a little bit would have no soul," he said. He turned to look at Jersey and shrugged. "Every now and again you make this face, because you're hurt and you seem to forget about it when moving around," he said. Yes, he could be observant, too. "And you have a bandage over your eye," he said, glancing up at her head. "You're alone and you're vulnerable and ... and I don't know. It's just easy to feel a little protective, is all," he admitted.


<Jersey> "You'd be surprised what people do and don't do." She frowned softly, thinking about the cop that had shot her and then sighed while she leaned back on the couch slowly, her nose crinkling slightly while she listened to him. "Sometimes I do, especially with the eyebrow because I don't have the big bandage anymore." She frowned softly, "And my back, well. It's a scratch but, my shirt likes to rub against it." Jersey looked down shyly, thinking about his answer as she slid her hand along the bare skin of her arm. "Well," Afterwards, she sat up a bit and debated on something before she leaned up and pressed a small kiss to his cheek in thanks quickly before sitting back once more, "Thank you. For helping me, for caring about me.. for seeming protective over me despite whatever the hell is going on in this city..." She frowned, "but for the most part, for just being a good friend because that... thing scared me senseless."


<Peter Parkman> Peter had looked away. He was pondering the things people do and don't do. He was pondering the things Keara and Enver did - the only other 'people' he really talked to. He pondered the fact that he was here in this awkward position because of something they did do, on a whim, because of an argument they were having with each other. And he was wondering whether Jersey was playing her wounds off as insignificant because she didn't want to appear weak. The movement at his side caused him to twitch, to turn toward her, only to freeze like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar when he felt her lips on his cheek. Had he continued with the momentum, her lips would have ended up on his. As it was, she sat back, and he tried to force himself to relax. This wasn't flirting, was it? "It's fine. It's... you don't have to thank me. It's just.... common human decency," he said, waving it off like it wasn't important. "I seem to have this knack for being the arbitrator without asking for it," he said, gaze drifting to the ceiling to focus on a tiny crack. "You know, settling things. In your case," he said, turning to Jersey again, finally, "Setting your nerves."
<Jersey> "And sometimes it's nice to just thank people for going out of their way to help and take care of you, which... you've done emotionally." She shrugged her uninjured shoulder before she looked at him with a warm expression and a small smile playing across her lips, "Well, you do it well."


<Peter Parkman> "Thank you," he said, with a hum. "It's nice to know when you have latent talent. A power for good. I could wear a vest with a big 'A' on it. And a cape. A mask, too? 'The Arbitrator', they could call me. I'll run around the city settling disputes, one argument at a time," he said with a laugh, and a genuine smile, the full beam of which he turned upon Jersey.


<Jersey> She laughed as well, her smile widening as she gave a nod of her head, "Definitely would be a sight to see, probably would have to find you some tights though." She adjusted lightly to face him more on the couch, leaning slightly into the back with her side as her giggles softened. "Probably would save a lot of politics though."


<Peter Parkman> Laughter was the cure for all ills, and as Jersey rearranged herself on the couch to face Peter, Peter rearranged himself, too. He unclasped his hands from between his knees, and pulled one leg up onto the couch. "I think I'd probably stay out of politics. I think politicians would be The Arbitrator's weakness. Only real people. Because politicians aren't real. They're aliens. You knew that, right?" he said, still grinning.


<Jersey> The smile didn't leave her lips as she listened to him, watching him rearrange himself before she gave another laugh and then a shake of her head, "Nah, didn't know that. It makes a lot of sense though, they're so stiff and I hardly expect they mean anything they say." Every now and then, she watched the news in the mornings - usually when she was getting ready for work or to go take the dogs for a walk.


<Peter Parkman> "Mmm," Peter laughed. It was easy to laugh about politics being aliens, though he'd probably have dived off a mental cliff if the word 'vampire' came up. Peter vowed to stay away from the word, tried to pretend that he was nothing but human, sitting her on a couch with another human. Having a laugh about silly things, because that's what people did. He'd kind of forgotten what it was people did. He wanted to ask her why she wanted to come somewhere private, but he knew that might plunge him right into awkward territory again. "Exactly. It's like the genie who can't grant wishes pertaining to love. The Arbitrator can't fix things between people with no souls. You know?" he said, though assuming he was making absolutely no sense.


<Jersey> She nodded her head, oddly enough it actually making enough sense to her while she gave a soft grin as she studied his features quietly, "Sounds logical to me, really. Lack of a soul, lacking true reason to do something." She shrugged her shoulders carefully while she set her elbow on the back of the couch, propping her head up lightly. Initially, she just wanted to talk to him in a setting that didn't seem to make him want to panic when they got on a topic he didn't seem to like, but since then, she had seemed to either forget or was purposely avoiding the subject, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.


<Peter Parkman> He nodded, probably a little too enthusiastically. He was getting right into this fantasy that he was, in fact, some kind of super hero. It was a childish desire of his, always had been, to don some kind of costume and save the world. He'd always lacked the gumption, though, and wasn't ever really into violence. He liked his comic movies, obviously, but was more likely to go sit in a cinema to watch 'Frozen' rather than the latest 'Die Hard' movie. Not something he really admitted to anyone. Ironic, really, that he now probably did have the power, the abilities, to actually look and act like a superhero - except that he was far too paranoid to be seen. "So you see, if I helped you, you must have a soul. You're not an alien. You passed the test," he said with a decisive nod.


<Jersey> Her lips twitched in amusement as she gave a nod of her head, "Well, I'm content we've established that I have a soul that's intact." She laughed, crossing one leg over the other while she watched him with a fond expression, "So I can mark politician off my list of 'what was I.'" She teased.


<Peter Parkman> "Ah, but you could be a reformed politician, maybe," he said. "Could very well happen. We'd just have to keep history from repeating itself," he said. "But that's okay. You're in good hands. Not only am I The Arbitrator, I'm also a damned fine historian. If anyone knows how to keep history in line, it's me," he said with another childish grin. That personality that usually comes out only on the internet was starting to show.


<Jersey> She chuckled, "Well, so long as I have you being a phone call away, I'm sure I'll always be safe from arguments." She grinned in return, winking, "And good. One of these days, I'm sure I'll need help from a good old fashioned historian."


<Peter Parkman> "Careful. I can get dusty from disuse. And am considered, probably, a little dull," he said, remembering all the tired old history professors he'd had while trundling through his educational years. The soft expression on his face narrowed, and he lifted a finger. "And don't say it. Not again," he warned, knowing she could take that dull comment and turn it around to make him 'interesting'.


<Jersey> Her mind had actually switched the other part around in her head, making her raise her hand to rub at her face for a moment before pushing her long blonde hair out of the way as her lips twitched in amusement. "I doubt it, you're rather riveting." He said not to to say it again. He never said she couldn't use a synonym.


<Peter Parkman> Peter rolled his eyes and sighed. "No. You're the riveting one. You don't have to hide anything on purpose. You just don't know anything. And that's more intriguing than anything I've got to say," he said. "And you're here, and you've got a job - two jobs, even - and you have found your feet, in a way, when a lot of people would let this situation get the better of them. And that makes you strong. So whoever you are, whoever you were, I don't think you could have anything to be ashamed of," he said. Two could play this game.


<Jersey> The first part of his statement caused her to lift her eyebrow lightly but she lifted her shoulders softly, "I never said I wasn't strong..." Granted, he didn't see the woman curled up in her bathroom sobbing because it had all gotten to her after one bullet had gone by. "We all have our moments of weakness," Her arms lightly went to her legs as she pulled her knees up to her chest, "we've got our blessings and our curses. Mine just happens to be that I can't remember jack." And after a few moments, she rearranged herself once more before she watched him quietly. She spoke after a long moment of silence, "And, sometimes it doesn't hurt to hide things from others. Say... for instance you were an alien. Is Alien Peter the same man I've been laughing with on my couch? Is he the one that's protected me, calmed me down this morning? Or would it all be a facade?"


<Peter Parkman> Peter frowned. He didn't understand. "Well, no. If I were an alien I wouldn't be sitting here. I'd never have offered you the hot chocolate. Which means I'd never have suggested you walk the dogs," he said. "Alien Peter wouldn't have had a soul, see?" he said. And, though he had a feeling they were still kind of being silly, he didn't want her to think, on any level, that any of it was a facade. "I'm very much not an Alien. I shouldn't be here but I am," he added, the frown deepening. It was a conclusion that he himself had jumped to. Would Keara or Enver really think he shouldn't be sitting here with a human? He didn't know. "I want to be," he added, clarifying to himself more than to Jersey. "I suppose that's my weakness," he said, meaning it as a compliment and hoping it wouldn't come across as otherwise.


<Jersey> "I suppose I should have said Alien with a soul." Her lips twitched faintly in amusement before she hesitated before scooting closer to him. The curiosity played across her features as she replayed his words through her head, and she knew that warning bells should be going off in her head, but there were nothing. She doubted she had a very high level of self preservation and in the back of her mind, she would linger on it later. "You shouldn't be here, but you are because you want to be?"


<Peter Parkman> She scooted closer and the breath caught in Peter's throat. He straightened, just a tiny bit. He bit the inside of his lip, and when next he spoke it was preceded by an odd strangled sound as the trapped air got free again. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be," he said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, as if it happened all the time. He could feel her body warmth, she was that close. And she wouldn't be feeling his. He was very conscious of the fact that he gave no body warmth. Surely, with her tendency to touch him so often, she'd start to notice.


<Jersey> His words went back through her mind, playing multiple times as she took thought of everything that had been said - that the city wasn't safe, but then considered that maybe she was reading into everything too much. At the same time, he usually avoided this type of conversation. "I know, and I'm glad you are." She offered a gentle smile.


<Peter Parkman> There was peace and quiet and there was that smile of hers that was like sunshine through the rain - he hadn't really noticed it before, as he'd been too preoccupied by paranoia and anxiety - but now he did because he'd relaxed, just that tiny bit. And she was too close for him to easily ignore her. She'd said she wanted to 'flirt and things' and Peter had no idea what that entailed. He should have, but even when he was in practice he never really knew what he was doing. That siren kept going off in his head, however; he was a vampire, she was not, this was a bad, BAD idea. All he could do was smile awkwardly and give a breath of a laugh.


<Jersey> Lightly, she squeezed his knee before she got up afterwards off the couch, her left leg feeling as if it had fallen asleep from the way she'd been sitting on it partially. She didn't know what she was feeling, or really even what she was doing and idly she wiped her hands on the denim cloth that covered her hips. Her boundaries were probably awkward. "So! Before we find ourselves going in another loop..." She bit her bottom lip idly as her gaze fell on his features before she clapped her hands together awkwardly, "Can I get you anything?"

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Peter Parkman> It was such an innocent question. Could she get him anything? All he had to do was reply with No, thanks. I'm fine. Instead, his eyes widened and he looked at her as if she had asked outright are you a vampire? "No! No, why should I need anything? I don't need anything," he shook his head, realising after the fact that he was overreacting a bit too much. He took a sharp breath, and tried a grin. "Sorry, no."


<Jersey> Jersey looked at him as if he had grown a second head, blinking slowly before she watched him for a long moment, "Okay." She shook her head, moving to get herself a glass of water with a quiet hum escaping past her lips. "Why are you getting so nervous?"


<Peter Parkman> "I'm not nervous," he said, a little too fast. "I just think that you're trying to find your way and that I don't want to...you know, take anything from you," he said. As far as lame excuses went, this one took the cake. Peter knew this. He shifted himself on the couch so that he was sitting on his hands; how bowed his head so that his chest nearly rested on his chest.


<Jersey> "You are so full of crap." She looked at him over her shoulder as she poured the water, sitting back down beside him once she was finished. "It's not really taking, I offered." She shrugged her shoulder.


<Peter Parkman> Peter bit the inside of his lip. He knew he was full of crap, and he knew when to give up a lost game. He was not a sore loser, never had been. His shoulders just slumped a little further forward as he nodded. "I am full of crap. I'm sorry. But I am fine. I don't need anything," he said, clarifying with what he hoped was a calm voice - the one that he should have used when she first asked the question.


<Jersey> She took a drink of her water and set it down a moment later, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder affectionately, "It's alright, and okay." She gave him a reassuring smile.


<Peter Parkman> Again, with the touching. Peter doesn't tense this time, and makes a conscious effort not to flinch. He also makes a conscious effort to look like he was breathing, too. He glanced at the water; oh, how he missed the taste of water. Most would say water doesn't have a taste. But it does. It was crisp, and nourishing. "How's the water?"


<Jersey> "Good, bought a case and put some in a pitcher so it'd get cold." She grinned a bit before she returned to the way she'd been sitting, studying his expressions quietly. "How long have you lived here in Harper Rock?"


<Peter Parkman> "Six months, maybe," Peter said, leaning back though still sitting on his hands. He tried not to look at Jersey, but instead around the motel room, as if it might give him some clue as to who she really was, when even she didn't know who she really was. She was going to start asking him questions about himself, and he had to try to remember the story that he had made up, the one that had been given to him.


<Jersey> "Was it an easy move?" She lifted her eyebrows lightly and leaned back in her chair comfortably. The pressure initially made her wince before it faded to a dull throb against the wound on her back. "And why did you come here?"


<Peter Parkman> "I was married. I got divorced," he grimaced. That, he supposed, was one way to put it, even though the truth was a little more gruesome. It was easier to compartmentalize the past now, though, especially seeing as the present was so damned demanding of his attention. "I stayed for a while - but felt it was time for a chance. There was a job available to the Harper Rock University. I took it. I moved here," he shrugged. "It's easy enough when you decide to start from scratch," he said, failing to mention that was easy mainly because the government had done it all for him. They'd found the house, they'd filled it with furniture, they'd found him a job. He was the one who decided he'd only bring a couple of suitcases.


<Jersey> She watched him grimace and her eyebrows pushed together, listening to him while she crossed one leg underneath herself before she tugged up her sock as the cloth fell down her ankle with her movements. "That's a good way to put it, and I agree." She frowned softly, "I'm sorry about your marriage."


<Peter Parkman> Peter shook his head. "It's not your fault," he said. This was where, if it had actually been a divorce, he'd tell her how it wasn't meant to be, how they failed to click, how they'd fallen out of love with each other. He couldn't say any of those things, however, without feeling he was betraying something inside of him, a memory of her, and what they'd had. He swallowed. "There are some things in this life we can't help. And we can't change. And that's fine," he said, clinging to a vague sense of optimism.


<Jersey> She gave a soft nod of her head, falling quiet as she watched him carefully. She had gone through her phone and the albums enough to know that she didn't have that attachment in any matter. For a time, she had wondered why, but something told her that she simply hadn't found the right person. "I couldn't agree more. It's better to remember the positive things in life, rather than the bad."


<Peter Parkman> Peter gave a laugh, then, low and sonorous. He nodded, and the laughter eased out into a bit of a wheeze. "And you hope that the bad doesn't start to outweigh the good," he said, turning his head so that he could watch Jersey, could contemplate her from the corner of his eye. He himself hadn't yet decided what he thought about what Keara and Enver had done to him. At the moment it was neither good nor bad, but a thing that had happened that he had yet to come to terms with. He hadn't been what he was long enough yet for it to have made a lasting impression. "I think maybe you're one of the good things," he said, before he could stop himself. He dropped his gaze to his knees.



<Jersey> "I'm an optimist, I try not to think like that at all." She grinned at him, resting her head against the back of the couch with a laugh of her own. Reaching up, she tugged at the bun she'd put her hair up in before redoing it. She had learned that she didn't like to sit still. Blinking lightly when he dropped his gaze, Jersey felt herself blush before giving a smile. "I think that you're one of the good things in my life, too, Peter."

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--



<Peter Parkman> Horror. That was what Peter felt. Absolute and utter horror. She returned the sentiment that he had so carelessly given, and he realised that he might not be a good thing for her. In fact, he could be the complete opposite. His whole life was turned on its head because he had witnessed something that he shouldn't have—they had witnessed something that they shouldn't have and she had died, and he had lived. And now here he was. He was something to be witnessed. And if Jersey were to see, it would be her life that would be irrevocably changed. Regardless of whether he decided he liked it or not, it didn't change that she shouldn't know. The entire evening came to a head and Peter leaped from the couch like a man burned. "I should probably go. It's getting late. You probably want to sleep," he said, taking one step toward the door and reaching for his cardigan.


<Jersey> She blinked and watched him before she stood as well, getting up to walk him out the door. "It's not too late, but, you probably have work anyway." She frowned lightly, going over their conversation to find out what had seemed to startle him. He'd been confusing her most of the night anyway. "But do me a favor and call me when you get home? That way I'm not up all night worrying that something happened, or you froze to death?" Her eyebrows pinched together lightly in concern.


<Peter Parkman> Peter hastily pushed his arms into the sleeves of his cardigan, pulling the thing black material around him, wanting for it to swallow him up. "Yeah, I have some things to grade," he said. It wasn't a complete lie, there was work that he could do in the hope that he would not actually lose his job, though he was less enthusiastic about it these days, anyway. "I'll....okay, but don't worry about me. I'll be fine," he said, reaching down to pick up the messenger bag full of books and slinging it over his shoulder. He lingered by the front door, wondering what he could do or say to explain his haste, to make this seem less strange. He came up short.


<Jersey> "I can worry if I please," She answered smoothly as she watched him before she blinked and scolded herself as she found her thoughts turning unfriendly once more. "Besides, whatever is going on in this city... it'd just make me comfortable knowing you were home and not in a ditch somewhere." The woman explained before she leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, "Good night, Peter." Whatever was going on with him, Jersey wasn't too concerned about his sudden decision to leave. He'd been acting off, but she figured it could've been from what she'd told him, or from what he hadn't told her.


<Peter Parkman> Although Peter was a meek and mild-mannered man, and though he seemed far too awkward for his own good, he did have his own kind of inner strength. Jersey leaned up to press another kiss to Peter's cheek and he didn't let her get away so easily. He wanted her to know that he wasn't running away from her, but from himself. His free hand circled around to cradle her head so that he could press the same kind of chaste kiss to her forehead. It was a fatherly gesture, almost a brotherly gesture, but regardless, indicative of a deeper care. "Goodnight," he mumbled, before disappearing out the door, not pausing to allow any more awkwardness or distress. He headed again for the stairs, not wanting to risk running in to anyone in the elevator.


<Jersey> She smiled lightly and leaned into the door frame, watching him quietly as she folded her arms in front of her chest until he was out of view before moving inside the hotel room once more. As usual, she shut the door by using her foot and locked it after. Collecting her water from the table, Jersey moved off into the bathroom to begin her 'nightly ritual' of brushing her teeth and getting ready for bed whlie every now and then, pausing to listen for her phone to chirp at her.


<Peter Parkman> There was something completely endearing about having a person waiting to hear from you. Peter was comforted by the knowledge that Jersey was safe in her hotel room, and not out wandering the streets. For the first time in a while Peter didn't go back to the Asylum. Instead, he made his way back to his cabin; he'd spend the rest of the night making sure that the space was light tight. He would sleep there, the next day. And he would wake up the next night knowing that Jersey would have been and gone. And that would be a comfort to him, too. A small comfort that turned the corner of his lips into a hidden smile. It didn't feel wrong when no one was watching. As soon as he was through the doors--the dogs piling in excitedly behind him--he didn't just send Jersey a text. Instead, he fell onto his bed and the dogs poured onto the mattress around him. He took a selfie, different tails and snouts visible around him. No, he could not be caught in a mirror, but phone cameras seemed to work just fine. He sent the image.


<Jersey> When everything was situated, Jersey adjusted the pajama shirt she wore before crawling into bed and relaxing. The ping from a message caused her to lift her eyebrow lightly as she rolled over on her stomach to collect her phone, a laugh escaping past her lips as she grinned and sent a text in return. 'Good to see you made it home, they seem very excited.'


<Peter Parkman> "Needy little bastards," Peter tapped out in response. He knew he should get up and see about the windows. He had some tarpaulin folded up somewhere, that had been here when he'd moved in. It was thick, and it was black. It made him wonder if a vampire hadn't occupied the place before he had. But he didn't move. He had a couple of hours, yet. And the bed was comfortable, and the dogs warm.


<Jersey> 'They love and miss you, s'all." She laughed and pressed send, setting her phone on it's charger beside her pillow. Her arms folded afterwards, Jersey getting comfortable in the hotel bed as she relaxed and stretched out the best she could.


<Peter Parkman> "Sure. They just want to be fed." He responded, though he knew it wasn't true. It's why he liked dogs so much. Their undying loyalty was always so flattering. He let the phone rest on his chest while he pulled Lady toward him, turning his face into her fur. He always loved the way they smelled.


<Jersey> 'That too.' She replied and chuckled, a yawn escaping past her lips while she closed her eyes and folded her arms beneath her head. She didn't want to fall asleep, but she figured it'd likely happen sooner or later.


<Peter Parkman> As if he could read her exhaustion from the other side of the city, when he could not see her at all, when next Peter replied it was only to say: "Good night, Jersey. Sweet dreams." He then reluctantly rolled from the bed, the dogs following him, tails wagging, as he found the closet with the tarpaulin inside - as he spread it out, hoping that there would be enough.


<Jersey> Her head lifted once more as her phone went off, Jersey pulling the device to herself carefully once more to read the message before she smiled and sent a reply once more. "Sweet dreams, Peter. Good night." Turning on her alarm, she closed her eyes once she put her phone on the bedside table before drifting off to sleep.