Path of the Vampire forum

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

<Jersey> Once the dogs were back inside their kennels, she had gone inside to put their treats away so they wouldn't freeze and she could warm up a bit after being chilled almost to the core after being outside for long. Where the dogs had fur, she didn't, and while her jacket was warm, it didn't exactly do her justice as she rubbed at her arms and checked at her watch to make sure she'd be out before he arrived. Normally, she wouldn't have bothered, but she'd fallen and ice had gone down her shirt and pants.


<Peter Parkman> The sun was just setting, and Peter was slowly coming out of the dead daze that the sun submitted him to. Although he didn't need blankets, they were all tangled up around his feet anyway. Bare feet touched the wooden floor as he dazedly stood from the bed--he wore a long pair of blue and white pyjama pants, and nothing else. He sauntered out of the bedroom, his hair ruffled; it was very obvious he had just crawled out of bed--and came face to face with another living body. He gave a shout and jumped backwards, knocking one of the lamps from the tables by the door of his bedroom. He clumsily reached out to catch the lamp just as he realised who it was. In the end, he ended up clutching the lamp to his chest in a bid to hide.


<Jersey> Removing her hat lightly, Jersey pocketed it and reached up to smooth out her hair idly before she rubbed at her arms as her green eyes moved over the tarp in wonder. "I still have no clue what on earth he's doing..." She mumbled to herself, finally deciding that he'd likely been doing something for work or even just felt like keeping the entire cabin dark - who was she to judge, really? Distracted by her ponderings, Jersey hadn't noticed the sauntering Peter until he shouted and she blinked only to see his bare chest, jumping herself as she turned the shade of a cherry tomato and began stammering, unable to get a complete word out. After a moment, though, she recovered enough to say, "Nice reflexes." The thought that he looked cute crossed her mind shortly after.


<Peter Parkman> It should have occurred to Peter that if he were to give Jersey a key, she might actually use it. He'd only recently decided to move back to the cabin from the Asylum - to put up the tarp and make sure the place was sun-proofed. It should really have occurred to him that, perhaps, Jersey would see. That she'd walk in on him while he was dead to the world during the day. His idiocy slapped him in the face and he, too, was caught stammering. His fingers curled tighter around the base of the lamp. "Uuuhm," he shook his head. He was at a complete loss for words.


<Jersey> "I busted my *** on the ice, kind of got wet," She turned slightly to show him where there was in fact where she'd managed to get her clothes wet, "and it was cold, so I stopped in to warm up. So, now I'm warm, and I'm just gonna go." She flashed him a grin, moving in the direction of the door afterwards as she was clearly embarrassed. To hell with not walking around alone at night, she could make it to the transit before it was black out. She'd likely just have to dethaw her jeans off her skin.


<Peter Parkman> "No, wait!" Peter called. And then he stopped, still holding the lamp with one hand, but holding the out out, fingers splayed, as if reaching out to hold Jersey back without actually being close enough to do so. He had no idea why he was telling her to wait; he was silent for at least ten seconds as he blinked and narrowed his eyes, searching inwardly for an answer. "Let me get dressed. I'll walk you back. Uhm.... make yourself at home," he said, before disappearing back into his bedroom - which he didn't actually have a door for, the cabin being open plan. He tried to stay out of sight as he rifled through his closet to find something decent to wear.


<Jersey> Converse had not been the best decision for her to walk around in, that was a very clear thought to her as she almost slipped for a second time that evening before she heard him call out, blinking over her shoulder at him. She made her way over to a chair quietly, catching sight of the man's back as he retreated before looking him over and then turned as she sat down to keep her own back to his bedroom. "Alright." She called, fiddling with the key that had been given to her before she tucked it back away beneath her shirt where she liked to keep it.


<Peter Parkman> She might have been able to hear him curse--only by blaspheming against god--at the lack of clean clothing. What he finally did find was a pair of jeans, an old dark gray shirt, and a jacket that belonged with an entirely different suit set. Concluding that he probably didn't look quite warm enough, he snatched a scarf from the drawer and hastily tied it around his neck. When he wandered back out into the main space he was still barefoot. "Ready to go?" he asked.


<Jersey> "I heard that." She shouted to tease, glancing over her shoulder for a moment before she pretended to find the wall very interesting when she caught glimpse of his chest once more and crossed one leg over the other. Figuring it was safe to turn around when she heard his voice, she gave a nod of her head and stood up, glancing at his feet before she lifted her eyebrow lightly. While it still hurt a bit, she liked having the mobility of it.


<Peter Parkman> Peter frowned as Jersey looked down at his feet. He, too, looked down at his feet. It took him several seconds to actually realise what had caught her attention. "Oh," he said, before coughing and doing a complete circle, gaze sweeping the floor as he searched for his shoes. They were right by the door - one pair, anyway. And they would do just fine. Black boots. "Sorry," he murmured, head spinning just a tiny bit as he leaned down to collect his shoes, to pull them onto his feet sans socks. "I hope it wasn't the dogs. Was it? Who pulled you over - " he said, gesturing to the wet spot on Jersey's jeans as he tied the laces to his shoes, sort of doing an awkward dance there in the middle of the floor in front of the door - an act of trying to keep balance. "I mean if it was I hope you didn't give them any treats, because they should be punished, if they were too rough..." he said, rambling now, because he couldn't stop himself.


<Jersey> She watched him in slight amusement before he asked about the dogs, she gave a shake of her head, "Didn't pull me, I slipped," She motioned to her shoes, "shitty traction kind of allowed one foot to go out from underneath me, I fell very gracefully." She added, although her expression showed that it had been exactly the opposite of that. Her rear still hurt and she rubbed the spot idly as if thinking about it made it hurt more. "You know, sitting down would be more beneficial." She moved to him, taking advantage of the angle to smooth back his hair. "I didn't wake you, did I? If you're sick, you shouldn't be going out in this... I can call a cab, or something."


<Peter Parkman> Two things happened simultaneously. The first was utter shock that Jersey's fingers were sliding through his hair, pushing it back; it was an act normally instigated by those who were familiar with each other, like people in relationships. It was an act of tenderness that completely caught Peter off guard and had him reaching for the wall so that he would not fall over. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly ajar as he held his position and stared up at Jersey. The second thing that happened was kind of like a Eureka moment - the girl had inadvertently given him his excuse. He was waiting for the question. Waiting for her to ask why he was in his pyjamas so early at night, and why he looked like he'd just got out of bed. He covered his mouth to fake a cough, but shook his head at the same time. Reluctant as he was to straighten up and pull his hair out of Jersey's easy reach, he did so anyway. "I'm fine. I think it was a .. 24-hour bug. Thing. And uhm.... I think the fresh air will do me good," he said, the lie rolling much smoother than usual from his tongue. He didn't really like that it was getting easier to lie.


<Jersey> "Sorry, it was bugging me." She gave a soft and sheepish smile, a blush playing across her features as she stared down at him, her hands falling as he straightened up. She frowned softly as he talked about having a bug, a soft shake of her head as she 'tsk'ed afterwards. "Probably shouldn't be staying up so late talking to me. It's probably making it hard on your immune system." She chuckled, sliding her hands into her pockets. "Are you sure, though? I wouldn't want you to get any worse."


<Peter Parkman> "Absolutely and utterly certain," he said, failing to tell her that he needed to go to the city, anyway. He needed to find a shop that would sell him a blood pack in a Styrofoam cup. He wouldn't tell her that such a shop did exist in the Asylum; the place he called a second home. Although he didn't need it, he pulled a heavier jacket from the book behind the door, a trench coat that he would pull on over his jacket. But then he had second thoughts. "Are you warm enough?" he asked, holding the coat out to Jersey. It would swim on her, but that didn't matter. "The sun's gone down. The temperature will have dropped. I think you should put this on. Especially if your jeans are still wet...." he mumbled, fussing over her, even holding the coat open as if he were going to force it on her if she refused.


<Jersey> "Alright..." She spoke warily, watching him quietly before she blinked, eyeing the jacket and them him afterwards. She was quiet for a few moments as if considering to say no, that was usually the default thing she said when offered help anyway. Jersey eyed him, then the jacket, and then him again. She didn't think he'd let her get away without wearing it. "If I get too warm, you're putting it on." She sighed before she moved to put the jacket on over her own, shivering lightly.


<Peter Parkman> Peter helped her with the jacket, sliding it up over her shoulder and pulling the collar shut, reaching down to do up the zipper, right up to her throat. Even going to far as pull the hood up over her head, all the while his brows furrowed with the kind of frown that a person only wears when worried over something that they don't want ruined or wrecked or lost. His hands rested on Jersey's shoulders for a moment or two; she looked as if she'd been all wrapped up in bubble wrap. Satisfied, Peter turned to the dresser beside the front door to retrieve his keys and his wallet. "Ready. Ready?" he asked, even as he opened the door.


<Jersey> While his back was turned, she slid the zipper down a bit before putting the hood down after she felt she had been mothered by Peter enough. Her blonde hair had been messed up once more and she used her nails to straighten it out afterwards before tugging her hat down. "Ready." She stated lightly, "Why did you look as if I'm a fragile piece of glass a moment ago?" She felt like she'd been wrapped in bubble wrap.

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

<Peter Parkman> The look that Peter gave Jersey, when he realised she'd unzippered a bit and pulled the hood off, was slightly disapproving. "Because to me you are a fragile piece of glass," he said, the honest answer slipping from his lips before he had the inclination to stop it. The crisp breeze slithered through the open doorway as Peter continued to hold it open for Jersey. He realised he didn't actually know Jersey quite as well as he might like, and his eyes widened, once more utterly horrified. "I mean, I don't mean that I think you're weak or that I think any less of you, I just mean... that I... you know, that you ...." he huffed. "It's just really cold outside."


<Jersey> His answer surprised her and it was her turn for her eyes to widen a bit as she blushed, zipping up the jacket a bit but leaving the hood off to humor him as she stepped outside. "I didn't think that you mean either of those." She said quickly, her arms folding in front of her chest. The chilly weather touching the wet spot of her jeans made her grit her teeth a bit. She really needed to start wearing layers more.


<Peter Parkman> "Okay, good," Peter said, relaxing only slightly as Jersey stepped past him and outside. He pulled the door shut and locked it; even now, still, his mind ticked over all the mundane things. Did he leave the oven on? The iron? The heater? He didn't think so. He didn't like the way Jersey crossed her arms over her chest; didn't like that she was cold, and that he couldn't make her warm. He shoved his own hands into his pockets as he trudged toward the gate, that would lead to the path, which would lead to the road that would eventually bring them back to Harper Rock. It was a walk he'd only ever done on his own. And this was the first time he wished he had a better mode of transportation - if only for Jersey's sake. "I'm sorry I don't have a car. Are you sure YOU don't want to call a cab? Are you sure you're warm enough?" he asked.


<Jersey> "I'm chilly, but I'll survive." She pulled her gloves on and tucked her hands into the pockets of his jacket, looking up at him, "Are you sure you're warm enough?" She had more layers of clothing on than he did and was still cold. Still though, she stepped closer to him if only to be able to grab onto him if her feet were to slide out from underneath her. If she were to fall again, well. She'd cling and rely on him not to take them down. Logical? No. But it made sense in her mind. "Little cold won't hurt." She already had the idea of taking a hot bath anyway and then curling up underneath the blankets.


<Peter Parkman> Again, Peter hadn't really thought it through. He did have another coat in there somewhere, didn't he? But they were already out the gate and he couldn't be bothered going back. He just shook his head. "I'm fine. You're wet, you just feel worse because of that," he said. It wasn't completely untrue, was it? And if he was going to be honest, he really couldn't determine, anymore, what the temperature really was. He couldn't actually tell how many layers might be needed. "I should tell you," he said with a crooked smile, "I am part amphibian. On my father's side."


<Jersey> She nodded lightly in agreement, "At least they dried some." Jersey watched her footing every now and then, looking up at him when he spoke and returning his smile with one of her own. "Wouldn't that make you sluggish in the cold weather?" She teased before glancing him over lightly, "Sure as hell don't look it though." She lifted her eyes back to his face, clearly referring to the pyjama incident.


<Peter Parkman> Peter had easily taken hold of Jersey's arm; had understood her necessity for balance, perhaps, and in their current context was not too perturbed by the closeness. Of course he was aware, in the back of his mind, that she would find no warmth in the proximity, he hoped that she simply would not notice. "No. We were well off. I had about ten surgeries before I started school. Replaced all the scales with normal skin, removed the webs from the fingers and feet. Stuff like that," he said, still with a crooked kind of smile.


<Jersey> She gave him a thankful look and then chuckled quietly, "Very good surgeon, never would have thought it." She relaxed comfortably, not feeling any warmth from him but thinking that she was perhaps just too cold from the weather outside to even really mind. "Poor you though." She grinned softly.


<Peter Parkman> "It's fine. I still have special powers. Heat vision, you know. And I like to swallow my meals whole--digest them reaaaally slowly, so I don't have to eat every day," he said with a laugh. He amused himself, sometimes - so awkward and clumsy and yet he found it so damned easy to just goof off. Only when he wasn't being serious, and when he wasn't trying too hard to hide anything, could he relax completely.


<Jersey> "I think I'm going to have to find you a book on amphibians." She laughed, reaching up to squeeze his arm with a gloved hand before she looked up with a hum escaping past her lips. Cold butt aside, she actually looked peaceful and relaxed out there with him. "But, I'm glad that I don't have to worry about any of it being used against me." She teased.


<Peter Parkman> Peter laughed, that particular line of silliness now up, it would seem. "Hey, I'm a historian, not a biologist. Biol... no, I'm sure there's some other word for those people who like to study... creatures," he frowned. His head still felt a little fuzzy, even if he was far more awake than he would have been had he been human, and awake less than an hour. He hadn't gone to the shop, yet. Hadn't yet 'fed'. The thought almost made him shudder, but he didn't - he'd really prefer it if Jersey didn't try and remove the coat he had given her because she thought he might need it more. They'd been walking down the now very dark path to the road, but the road was lit up all nice and bright. The light at the end of the tunnel.


<Jersey> She looked up at him while she studied his feature, sliding her hand up to squeeze his upper arm as she thought that it was definitely a bad idea to let him walk her back. She didn't feel comfortable letting him walk back alone. "I can't remember off the top of my head." Every now and then, she'd feel one of her feet slide a bit before she managed to catch herself without putting too much tension on his arm.


<Peter Parkman> This was a route that Peter walked all the time. Even without preternatural abilities, he was quite skilled at keeping his balance. The boots that he wore were specifically designed to grip the ice, anyway - there was a masculine part of him that bloomed with pride as he continued to keep steady, and to help hold Jersey upright. He tried to ignore the thrill that he felt every time she squeezed his arm. "I suppose it doesn't matter. We historians are a better species anyway," he chuckled.


<Jersey> She grinned at him gently. Any other time she would have bumped him with her hip, but with her footwear at the time, she didn't risk it. She looked amused, her eyes sparkling with it before she chuckled, "Mm, definitely a different ball game." Jersey thought about their conversations as of late, the way he'd jumped up and pretty much ran out of her hotel room. It still confused her and she quietly studied him from the corner of her eyes in thought.


<Peter Parkman> Peter found himself glancing down at Jersey out of the corner of his own eye--he wanted to pull that hood back up over her head, regardless of the fact that she was wearing a hat. What he saw instead, though, was the woman looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "What?" he asked, like an affronted child. He even reached up to rub at his mouth, almost fainting at the thought that somehow there might be blood caught in his stubble, or something ridiculous. He wouldn't actually be able to see. He couldn't see himself in the mirror, ever. He really had no idea how, sometimes, he looked a little too much like his dogs.


<Jersey> "Nothing, just thinking." She went red at the fact she'd been caught and turned her attention back to the road before she looked at him once more, turning her head a bit, "You look handsome even when a bit rugged." She shrugged a shoulder and then reached up to lightly and carefully rub at the healing cut on her eyebrow as it itched, not hard enough to break the skin open once more. Afterwards, her hand went back in her pocket.


<Peter Parkman> Oh god, why did I ask? Not this again... Peter cleared his throat. "Just imagine me all covered with scales and with webs between my fingers, and you'll be cured of all such things," he mumbled, really hoping that she would, though at the same time scolding himself for not returning the compliment in some way. But they'd had this conversation before. She wanted to 'flirt and things'. He wanted to despair. Their feet finally found the road, and he turned them onto it. A car passed them, on the way out of the city. He stuck to the path specifically built at the side of the road for pedestrians. "That's all you've been thinking about?" he then asked, out of the blue, kind of distracted and highly amused by the idea that his looks could actually be enough to trigger an entire thought process.


<Jersey> Jersey reached over and pinched him for the comment. "Nope." Before she fell quiet once more, staying quiet until he spoke again before she blinked a few times and looked up at him, "Well. Yes. No. Kind of?" She made a face, trying to think of the best way to put it before she pushed the dirtier things out of her mind. "Multiple things." She tried to keep calm but her heart fluttered a bit faster as she folded her arms in front of her chest once more. Her face was red again and she pulled the hood up. Instant shield of vision.


<Peter Parkman> Peter stared at her, unfortunately able to see, very clearly, when her face flared red. It was as if he could see the blood bursting into the little capillaries of her cheeks like broken flood gates. It was entirely endearing and caused his throat and teeth to ache in ways he did not like. Not one bit. He remembered what Keara had said; she hadn't wanted him to accidentally kill this human, or bite her and give himself away. He had reassured Keara. He found himself snapping his stare away just as Jersey pulled up the hood. He had to school his thoughts; no, he wasn't going to bite her. This had to be something different. Something... ohgodno. He shook his head. He couldn't deal with either thing. "I don't know if I want to ask you to elaborate..." he mumbled, keeping his eyes steadfast on the road ahead of them.

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

<Jersey> "If you do, you asked for it and after seeing you when you'd woken up looking as cute as you did, didn't particularly help." She founded a spot in the trees interesting for a few moments before her green eyes returned to him while she pulled the hood back only when she wasn't blushing. "I might like you," She said and glancing away, "a lot more than I thought."


<Peter Parkman> Peter knew he should not have asked. It was almost as if he were bracing himself for an answer that he would not like; he was prepared, this time, to stave off any outward awkward reaction. There was a branch that he could very well have tripped over, but avoided it. There was only a small celebration in Peter's head before he willed his heart to pick up a pace that it could not actually physically handle anymore. He tried to force himself to be calm, even if he was entirely torn. "I don't want to... I mean we had this conversation, too," he said with a frown. "You really shouldn't."


<Jersey> "Yes, I know, I shouldn't, it's dangerous." She couldn't avoid rolling her eyes, crossing her arms in front of her chest while she gave a shake of her head. "You know," She stopped and her green eyes stared at him lightly, "That still makes absolutely no sense to me, either. Who the hell would care if I were interested in you? It's no one's business but mine and yours." Jersey gave a shake of her head and started walking once more.


<Peter Parkman> Peter stopped, too, his hands buried deep into his pockets. He stared longingly toward the city, as if reaching their destination would put a stop to the conversation. He couldn't deny it, though. Couldn't push her away, because he'd never really been very strong. Not really. Not in certain things. He finally turned to Jersey; where her breath was steam, his was not. His was invisible. "It doesn't matter if you like me or if I like you more than I thought. That's not what anyone cares about. What they DO care about is if you... if you find out things that you shouldn't," he said, rocking back on his heels and forward again. He'd already said this before, hadn't he? He supposed it bore repeating.


<Jersey> Her brain took note of the lack of steam from his breath, but it quickly pushed away as she blinked up at him as the first set of words went through her head. "You like me more than you thought?" And afterwards, her eyebrows pushed together lightly while she watched him, "Peter... I don't really care if I find out things I should, or shouldn't. I care about happiness... and friendship, your dogs, my boss... and you." She supposed herself was on that list somewhere, but she ignored it, "-If- is a pretty big chance."


<Peter Parkman> "Maybe you don't. Maybe not really, though," Peter said, watching Jersey carefully from the corner of his eye. "My dogs, your boss, and me. Are they the only things you know? Maybe because you can't remember anything else ... you're a person capable of so much love and because you have nothing to give it to but those three things that you have discovered, and that you like... maybe you're tricking yourself, and you really don't care all that much, and someone else will come along that you decide you can like better," he said, rambling, trying to stall. Maybe ifhe made her angry, she would stop.


<Jersey> “And maybe I know exactly what I mean and say considering I’ve spent enough time getting to know my feelings because they’re the only thing I knew that had been true from the moment I came to.” Her tone came out slightly harsher than she had intended, her green eyes reflecting that his speech had hurt her a bit as she unzipped his jacket and handed it back to him. She put her hands into the pockets of her jacket, “You overthink things and look into it too much. Thanks, though, for making me worry about another thing that might be wrong with me.” She was upset and defensive, beginning to walk away from him.


<Peter Parkman> Never did Peter intend to hurt Jersey, not really, and he regretted even attempting to make her angry. He hadn't thought that it would work; he'd thought that maybe she'd come back with some kind of amusing quip. But instead, she handed him back his jacket, and left Peter floundering there on the side of the road. He could have turned around and gone back, but of course he wouldn't. He jogged to catch up to Jersey. "I'm sorry, I didn't really mean it. Please, put the jacket back on?" he said, holding out the garment. "I'm not looking into it too much. I swear to god, I like you a lot but I just... there's so much I have to deal with right now and I'm taking it out on you. And you don't deserve it," he said.


<Jersey> When she heard him coming up, she was half attempted to run away but with the fact her sneakers would likely cause her to slip and fall if she stepped on a patch of ice, Jersey wasn't thrilled at the idea of breaking a bone. "I think I would have slapped anyone else." She grumbled as she looked up at him, putting the coat back on and zipping it halfway up before she frowned softly. "Then rather try to push it off that what I feel isn't real, maybe, 'I like you a lot, too, Jersey, but I'd like to get some things sorted' would have been a little bit more beneficial in this situation." She exhaled heavily before cracking a small smile. "I'm sorry, too. Didn't really mean to seem snippy."


<Peter Parkman> As soon as the jacket was taken from him, Peter pushed his hands back into his pockets and exhaled a sigh of relief. At least she didn't seem to hold a grudge. His lips pressed tightly together before he nodded. "I like you too, Jersey, but there are a hell of a lot of things that I need to get sorted first," he said. Like those nasty little gnashing shadowy assholes threatening to impregnate any... He shuddered and shook his head. Nope, no... will not think about that. Will not.


<Jersey> She relaxed from his words and watched him quietly, studying his features as she took note that his breath hadn't shown once more in the cold weather. When he shuddered and shook his head, she reached up and squeezed his upper arm before she carefully went onto the balls of her feet and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Let's get you out of the cold?"


<Peter Parkman> He shook his head. "Sure..." he said, in lieu of the I'm not cold that was sitting on the tip of his tongue. He narrowed his eyes at the city ahead of them, growing closer with each step they took. He was used to it, now. The light touches, the way she squeezed his arm again, that kiss on the cheek. He could only frown again, disapproving of himself rather than of Jersey. Sometimes he wished he was just a little bit more reckless, and maybe none of it would matter. But all he could hear was Keara's voice in his head; and as he heard it again, he narrowed his eyes, frown growing a little more frustrated. He'd have a word with his sire. This was torture, and it was all her fault.


<Jersey> She enjoyed the quiet and the way the air smelled clean, but she didn't particularly like the way the inside of her nose felt dry and frozen. Lightly, she reached up to rub at it for a few moments, ignoring the fact it was still red before she looked up at Peter and lifted an eyebrow at the frown. When he narrowed his eyes, however, her eyebrow lifted. "I'm guessing you are now thinking of the things you need to get sorted and they're pissing you off?"


<Peter Parkman> Peter glanced away from his problems and down at Jersey, trying to force himself to smooth the expression from his face; to make it expressionless. He wasn't sure whether he succeeded. He nodded, on the verge of wanting to tell her everything. Instead he pushed his hands a little deeper into his pockets, and tucked his elbows in closer to his body. "Maybe you were some kind of mentalist in a past life. Like that guy on the TV show," he murmured.


<Jersey> Her lips twitched lightly in amusement as she pulled her gloves a bit more up above her wrists before she shrugged, "Maybe, but the way you'd been before and after that conversation we just had kind of tipped me off." She looked around the area, then to the city in thought before speaking once more, "It's absolutely beautiful out here."


<Peter Parkman> "It is, especially at dawn," he said, unable to mask the nostalgia from his tone. That's one of the things he'd loved best. In fact, it was probably his most favourite thing in the world - walking the dogs at dawn; stepping out when it was still dark and getting home when the sun was high in the sky. Being there, when the birds all woke up. And now that was gone. He didn't even get to say goodbye to that. It was gone forever.


<Jersey> She looked up at him as he spoke, "I've never paid that much attention." She decided that the next time that she was off work that she would try to, and then probably zonk out for a while. Her thoughts were interupted, however, by her foot slipping out from underneath and she gave an indignant yelp as she landed flat on her back on the cement. "****." She groaned.


<Peter Parkman> If Peter hadn't been so distracted by the things that he missed, if he hadn't been trying to remember what the sun felt like to look at, and to feel on his skin, he might have been paying enough attention to catch her before she fell. Instead, he could only stand there confused for a second, wondering why she was no longer beside him, wondering why she was swearing. As soon as he came to his senses he backtracked and hastily held out a hand, to help Jersey up again. "I think maybe you're more clumsy than I am," he said, though he did not laugh. "Do I have to carry you all the way back?"


<Jersey> She spent a moment wiggling on the concrete to make sure nothing was broken or hurting too badly - other than her pride, at least - before reaching up and grasping Peter's hand as she got to her feet. "I have a lack of coordination when it comes to ice." And her sweatpants, a rug, and... yeah. He was right, she was clumsy. "I'll survive. I think my pride hurts more than anything else. I might just kind of cling to your arm."


<Peter Parkman> Maybe it had something to do with vampirism and heightened senses; maybe it had something to do with the fact that upon turning, all the good and bad qualities in Peter were amplified, and made stronger. He was ten times who he once was; he'd always had a tendency to protect the things and the people that he cared about. So although she refused, he bent down to sweep his arm beneath her knees, to lift her into his arms. She was light as a feather, and even Peter was surprised at how easy it was. It was as if she weighed nothing at all. "You've already slipped twice and the next time you might actually break something," he said, deadly serious. To Peter, in that moment, he wasn't trying anything. He wasn't hitting on her. He wasn't even consciously playing gentleman. It just seemed like a common sense thing to do. "Until we get somewhere where the ground is more stable," he said.

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




<Jersey> She squeaked when she was picked up and went red, falling into his arms while she gave him a slight look without any heat put behind it. "I suppose chivalry isn't dead." She pushed the hem of her jacket and shirt lower, lifting quickly to do the same at her back before she crossed her arms in front of her chest. She could feel a comment on the tip of her tongue that she was debating to keep to herself, but as usual, that wasn't going to happen. "You really know how to sweep a gal off her feet."


<Peter Parkman> "Hah hah, very funny," Peter muttered. He, too, was flustered; he didn't know what to say or whether he should say anything to explain that's not what this was. She was right, of course - he tended to over think things, and that's exactly what he was doing with himself now. He'd say that he wasn't trying to be chivalrous, and that he wasn't trying to sweep her off her feet... but what came out was entirely different. "I'm not doing this to get in your pants," again, he shuddered, and then cringed. She was going to think he was disgusted by her, when to the contrary, he was disgusted by himself. "I really just don't want you breaking your tailbone. Who'd walk my dogs?" he said, testing a grin.


<Jersey> "Why," She asked as she watched him with slightly narrowed eyes before she let her features relax, "do you keep shuddering? Take your jacket if you're cold." This time, she frowned at him. She did think he was strange and after a few moments, she couldn't help the thought that popped into her head and out of her mouth, "Do you prefer men or something?" She was surprised at how curious she sounded, hoping he wouldn't take offense and as he mentioned breaking her tailbone, she reached up and playfully tugged at his hair in answer. "You'd figure something out."


<Peter Parkman> "No!" he said, horrified. Maybe he should have said yes. Maybe that would have solved all his problems, if she thought he was gay. He had vowed never to have sex again, so she wasn't going to get any satisfaction anyway. He took a deep breath that he did not need as he continued to trudge, himself now keeping a very close eye on the ice to make sure that even his heavy-duty boots did not slip, taking them both down. "I mean, I don't have any problem with people who... bat for the other team. But I'm not one of them," he said, shifting his attention from the ice to Jersey's face for only a second. She was like her own heater, the warmth seeping from her body against his, gathering in that space between them. All he could smell was eu de Jersey, and it was its own kind of torture. He cleared his throat and returned his attention to the road. ahead. "I'm not cold. I'm fine."


<Jersey> "Oh, alright. Good." She chuckled softly, relaxing quietly in his arms. Oddly enough, she was very comfortable in his hold and it showed as she didn't fidget much. Every now and then, and almost as if she were mainly just self-conscious about the cut over her eyebrow, Jersey would adjust her hat over her ears while the scent of vanilla and a warm sugar washed over her from her shampoo. "Are you just saying that to make sure I don't give up the jacket?"


<Peter Parkman> "No. I am genuinely not at all cold," Peter said. It was the truth, considering the usual connotation attached to the word. It was lie, given that his skin was as cold as marble and would never change. Yes, he may have hired that Anne Rice book out of the library after Jersey had returned it. He may wonder whether his skin would warm if he proceeded to drink the blood of several humans. Deep down, he knew it wasn't something he was willing to test. He was happy, drinking blood from his usual styrofoam cup. It was cold blood, and it didn't taste very good, but it took only a minute out of his night. And if it would keep him from considering Jersey as something he might like to taste - as he had done, glimpsing yet again her reddened cheeks - then so be it. He would not accidentally lose control and eat her. That was not something he would allow. "Tell me about your job. What do you do? Where is it? Do you like it?" he asked, lunging for the nearest safest topic of conversation.


<Jersey> She blinked at him as if she disbelieved him but relaxed comfortably once more, falling quiet in thought as she thought about what'd she write in her journal after he'd left. Lifting her gaze to his features when he spoke, she blinked once. "Oh, I work at Peppermint, which is kind of like this organic beauty supply place. It's in the 8th Dimension Mall? Just south of Wickbridge." Jersey wet her lips lightly before speaking once more, "I make some of the products, help out customers. I like it well enough, I haven't had to deal with anyone rude yet which is nice."


<Peter Parkman> "This is Canada," Peter said with a smile that somehow seemed to emit both pride and deprecation. "Something is terribly wrong if someone's rude to you," he said. Oh, he knew all about it, the jokes and the memes that flitted around on the internet. Canadians were considered some of the friendliest people in the world. "Is that what you're wearing now? Something from Peppermint?" he asked, commenting on her scent; it was entirely enticing in ways that he would not comment upon.


<Jersey> She gave a soft shake of her head, "No, although I do have a few things that I bought recently that might be better for my hair." Jersey was clearly surprised he'd noticed how she smelled and gave a soft, sheepish smile, "It's not too strong, is it?"


<Peter Parkman> "No, it's nice," Peter said. Even though he'd been walking some time with Jersey in his arms, he appeared to show no lack of energy or strength. He was pondering that, too, in the back of his mind; he considered it a win, one of the pros. No strain was required to carry a woman long distances. What else, then, could he be capable of? An inkling of excited curiosity tugged at his brain, and he batted it away. "I don't think you should change it. You smell.... like pacakes," Oh god, I did just compare her to food, didn't I? "Pancakes on a Sunday morning," he said, deciding that that wasn't an insult. Was it?


<Jersey> She smiled, "Thank you." And then fell quiet again, idly playing with her hair as she listened to him. The confusion playing across her features was visible for a quick moment before she laughed, "Well, given you elaborated... I'm assuming that reminds you of something good. But thank you, I'm glad you like it. I like how you smell, too." She considered the fact they both would sound strange to anyone listening in, but oh well.


<Peter Parkman> Peter wasn't aware that he had a smell. He tried to think - he had showered the night before, hadn't he? Before he'd fallen into bed? He wasn't sure that he had, and he'd dressed so quickly to walk Jersey home... thing was, he didn't sweat anymore. His body didn't function like a normal human's, and thus did not give the same kind of odors. His skin didn't get oily, and no part of him ever got clammy. His hair didn't get greasy. He didn't even have to go to the toilet anymore. He supposed he might smell like dog. And maybe like ... snow, and the outdoors. "Now I think you're lying," he said, still frowning. "I don't think I've showered in forty-eight hours," he said. "...I don't even know what scent my shampoo has..." he said, seriously actually distracted by trying to imagine the shampoo bottle, and what its descriptors might be.


<Jersey> "You're thinking too much on the compliment, Peter." She closed her eyes rather than rolled them, her head lightly resting against his arm while she relaxed. "Not lying though, you do smell nice when you bathe and to be fair, never said right now. You assumed." She opened one eye to look up at him, "Orange... kind've woodsy. Whatever it is, it's nice."


<Peter Parkman> Peter nodded, mouth slightly ajar as he nodded. He had only come to the conclusion that the bottle the shampoo was kept in was blue, if that was even what she could smell. "Huh," he said. "You know I don't think anyone's ever actually told me what I smell like before," he said. "I have been told I think too much before, though. I'm sorry. I don't think I can help it," he said with a crooked grin. The road branched out in front of them. They'd reached Moss End; warmth radiated from the homes around them. It was still very early. It would be a while before people started going to bed. People were still getting home from work, or wherever they'd been for the day. Glancing through windows one could tell they were warm inside, while it was cold as death outside. At least the pavements had been attended to. "Should I put you down, now?" Peter queried.


<Jersey> Jersey opened both of her eyes as she reached up, pushing his mouth closed lightly with her fingertips against his chin. "I'm observant." She pointed out before she chuckled softly, "Don't apologize, it's not really a bad thing. Sometimes it just might make something worse in the end." She reached up and squeezed his shoulder. At his next question, her green eyes went to the pavement and she gave a nod of her head, "Please." Although, she was reluctant more for the fact she hadn't had to walk and she actually liked his hold. "I don't think I'll slip, but might not hurt to stay near." She chuckled quietly, adjusting her hat another time before she grinned gently at him.


<Peter Parkman> Peter frowned down at the girl, paused in his steps as he considered carrying her all the way back to the motel. In the end he decided he couldn't really protect her every second of every and every night. That was not practical. If she was going to slip and fall, then there was nothing he could do about it, if he wasn't around. He nodded and half crouched so that he could let go of her without dropping her, though his arm did remain wrapped around her. It just felt comfortable there, and if she did slip there was no way she was going to go down. He cleared his throat as he nudged her to keep walking.


<Jersey> "Thank you." She pressed a light kiss to his cheek while she was being set down and smiled while she started walking once more, her hands resting in her pockets. "So... how did their vet appointments go the other day when I almost ended up having a heart attack because they weren't in their kennels." She questioned while they walked, looking up at him lightly before she watched a little girl throw a snowball at whom she guessed was an older brother. Jersey immediately looked away for some reason unknown to her before she looked up at Peter once more.


<Peter Parkman> "What v--" he stopped, gulped at air, and then nodded. "Fine, it went fine. Just the regular check-up. Worming, nails clipped. You know," he said. "I uhm... Sorry I didn't let you know, again. I forgot myself until they called me and I left in a rush," he said. No, he hadn't made the excuse up on the spot. He'd actually thought about, this elaborate lie, just in case Jersey mentioned it. He knew exactly what he was going to say before the fact. Yes, maybe sometimes overthinking could make things worse. But sometimes it got him out of trouble, too.

It seemed to Jersey that he had almost forgotten about it again as she heard him stop and lifted her eyebrow lightly at him in vague amusement while she tucked her gloved hands away into her pocket. “He’s so damn strange.” She thought, taking in his features before she noticed something for the first time. No shadow. “No, it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you...”

The blonde blinked for a moment, listening to him before she gave a nod of her head in understanding only to see that it hadn’t changed. “Good,” She smiled a soft and warm smile, glancing at the laces of her sneakers while she walked and considered logical reasons to why Peter may not have a shadow.

Of course, nothing in her mind actually made it sound reasonable.

The direction in which Peter was leading Jersey was the Bullwood Station. It probably wasn't all that much further to walk to get to the hotel, but they had already been walking a while - and Jersey had already had to walk the dogs. The train might get them there quicker, and would also be a far warmer way to travel. Peter was, of course, enjoying keeping Jersey's company, but every minute more that he spent with her, the panic mounted.

He was silent as he considered the possibilities. The more time he spent with Jersey, the more he began to trust her. The dogs liked her. That was enough, wasn't it? No danger would come to her if she kept the secret. If she didn't tell anyone - if she didn't go raving about it in busy banks. No one would know that she knew, and no one would know that it had been Peter who told her, if neither of them actually spoke about it to anyone else. Though the thing that worried Peter most was the fact that he couldn't just tell her that he was a vampire. Surely that would have her running for the hills, calling him nuts. No, he would have to show her.

He was nervous, however, of what the outcome might be. Too nervous to actually do anything about it. And so he remained silent, with one hand still tucked into his pocket, and the other still wrapped around Jersey. He was too lost in his own thoughts and woes to pick up another topic of conversation.

She looked up at Peter as they walked, and despite the chill, she found herself relaxed and comfortable underneath his arm. Even if he hadn't showered in a day or two, Jersey did find that he smelled nice. Her head lightly rest against his shoulder, and afterwards, she looked back to the people around them while she debated on what to say, what to think.

Was her mind playing tricks on her after all? Rather than dwell on it, she pushed the thoughts on the back of her head before she spoke, "Did you always want to be a Professor? Studying history?" There. That was a perfectly normal thing to ask, and it showed that she was actually interested in getting to know him more. "Or was there something else?"

Peter gave a light shrug of his shoulders.

"Pretty much. Kind of. When I was in school, as a kid, I wanted to be an explorer. You know the ones who went around and discovered new land? I'd have loved to have been Captain Cook, you know? But soon I realised that all the land had been discovered already and it was kind of moot, wanting to be an explorer. I suppose I could have gone into science and become an astronaut, or a deep sea diver. But by that time I sort of just got absorbed by reading about the explorers. Which sort of just merged into other historical texts. It kind of just stuck with me," he said. It was never hard for him to talk about why he wanted to study history. It was something about himself he got to keep; something he wasn't ashamed of, and something he didn't ever have to hide.

"I majored in philosophy, too - reasonably, becoming a philosopher isn't very lucrative. I thought it was better to study something which might actually get me a job," he said. "I'm thinking of quitting the teaching, anyway. Just become an academic. Write papers and things," he said. Obviously, he preferred this topic of conversation. He liked to ramble, because it was comfortable. And something he did not have to panic about.

He was cute when he rambled, and she liked that it seemed he didn't have to think. Jersey liked listening to other people talk about themselves and their pasts; on her off days before she visited with the dogs, she had found herself occasionally talking with older people in lines at the bank, or at the grocery store. It was likely because of her lack of knowing.

Lightly, she moved the arm closer to his body away from her pocket and slipped it around his waist, finding it more comfortable that way. With a nod of her head, the blonde understood. "It could be good one way or another, can't really see a negative factor about it. If you enjoy writing papers and doing things along the lines of being an academic, I think you should." She gave a soft grin.

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

<Peter Parkman> At least, Peter thought, he wasn't one of those people who had no brain to mouth filter. He might have said that yes, being an academic would be more beneficial, especially now, given that he could only come out at night time. He did not say thought, however much he might have wanted to. Jersey seemed like the kind of girl he wanted to just have an hour-long conversation with, about everything and anything. Except that he couldn't tell her everything. So he just nodded. "It means less time having to grade mediocre work and more time to read the proper stuff. And try to write something beneficial of my own," he said. Though he realised, now, that his entire view of the world was skewed. He had a whole lot to reconsider.


<Jersey> Her lips twitched in amusement while she looked up at him at that, "Hey, some of us write pretty well when it comes to mediocre work." She teased, inclining her head lightly as she considered it though. "Well, if you do it and start writing, I'd like to read some of your work. Get a little insight inside the mind of Professor Peter Parkman." She gave a soft squeeze of her arm around his waist and looked at the upcoming transit with an almost disappointed expression playing across her features. She enjoyed spending time with him and the hotel was too quiet.


<Peter Parkman> The grin that Peter gave was wry. He couldn't be too amused. Couldn't relax entirely, with her arm looped around his waist. To anyone who looked, they'd appear like an ordinary a couple; two people in a relationship who are comfortable in each other's presence. That's not what they were, though, and it worried Peter more than it discomfited him. "Oh I know. There is a certain kind of satisfaction when teaching a group of people and seeing them progress. And some of them do really have some grand ideas. But I'm not getting as much satisfaction out of it as I want. I suppose teaching is a selfless job, sometimes. I'm selfless in too many other aspects of my life and there comes a time when I need to take something back. For me," he said, matter-of-factly.


<Jersey> Jersey lifted her shoulders softly in a shrug, "Then maybe you just decided it right there, take time for yourself, Peter. After all, you're young, you can always go back into teaching if you get tired of it." Her green eyes went up to him once more before it dawned on her that she actually didn't know how old he was. For all she knew, he could be in his fifties and just look younger. 'Oh please, don't let him be older than I think.' She closed her eyes, thinking of her journal issue about daddy issues and set her forehead against his arm for a few moments. "Do what makes you happy, Peter."


<Peter Parkman> Peter snorted derisively, and then immediately regretted the reaction. Apparently, he was going to live forever. And he was never going to grow a day older than what he was. The pressure of making the most of his life was lifted; freedom was a weight that threatened to overwhelm him. He didn't have to worry about growing old and dying, and not getting everything done that he'd hoped to do. If it weren't for the fact that he needed money, he'd stop working all together. In another century, he could go back to teaching if he wanted to. It was something he didn't like to dwell on. It was all a bit too much to take in. "What makes me happy is living out in the middle of nowhere with my dogs and only having to deal with the people I like. What makes you happy?" he asked, turning the topic from himself, back to Jersey.


<Jersey> The snort threw her off and she smirked when she looked up at him, "And what, Mr. Parkman, did you find amusing about that?" She questioned curiously and then wondered if she'd mentioned her thought out loud. She'd done it a few times lately and for a moment, she went red and her eyes widened slightly while she looked up at him, studying his features as if she could tell just from that. It was once again she noticed the lack of shadow and she shivered underneath his arm. She considered his question quietly. "My friends here, my jobs," Jersey gave a soft grin. "Things I don't ever think I'll be able to take for granted."


<Peter Parkman> "Only that I don't think I'm young," he said, quickly covering for the snort. It's definitely something he might have commented on before; and he didn't know when he started believing he'd grown old. He supposed there came a point in everyone's lives when they realised they were no longer the freshest flowers in the bunch. He gave a nod. "It's always the simplest things that make us the happiest, I think," he said.


<Jersey> "Because you've made me curious, how old are you?" She glanced at her feet once more, wiggling her toes idly in her socks for a moment while she looked back up and then gave a nod of her head as well. "Definitely, although one of the simple things I've thought has turned to be a lot more complex than I imagined."


<Peter Parkman> "I'm thirty-four," Peter said, though he didn't smile or joke or tease, due to the second part of Jersey's answer. He wasn't a stupid man. He knew exactly what she was referring to. Even if it wasn't him exactly, but something else odd or complicated that she'd come across that he couldn't explain to her, it was all the same thing. The thing that he wanted to avoid. He wanted to tell her that she should perhaps give up that simple thing that is no longer simple, but he couldn't do it. He feared the reaction. He didn't want to make her angry again. And so he bit the inside of his lip and refrained. "It's simple. You just need a place of your own, and you need to buy a dog. These are the simple things that will bring you the most happiness," he said. They had reached the transit, and soon were bathed in the bright, fluorescent lights of the station.


<Jersey> "I think I'm in my mid to late twenties." She stated lightly and then she inclined her head, "You don't really look thirty four." She gave a soft smile while she looked up at him and then lifted her shoulders in a soft shrug, "I'm working on the place of my own, may need to wait for a while on a dog." And as Jersey looked up at him, she gently squeezed the man lightly to her form before releasing it. "But everything always works out in the end."


<Peter Parkman> The thought of eternity, now so prominent in Peter's mind, might have had him turning white as a sheet. The fact that he had no blood in his cheeks to lose, however, meant that only the slight twitch to his eye might give away a deeper woe. That simple statement, you don't look thirty four, had him again wanting to laugh hysterically, in a panic. No, sure, that was fine now, but what happened when he turned eighty and he looked the same? No wonder Keara didn't think he should keep human friends. How the hell would he explain to them, after ten years, that he still looked exactly the same? He wasn't sure this, any of it, was going to work out okay in the end. Not even friendship with Jersey. He took a deep breath and released it again; he felt like he needed a brown paper bag to breath into. Instead he tried to control himself. He focused on the timetable. Narrowed his eyes. "Five minutes. There should be a train in five minutes," he said. He then found a bench to fall down onto.


<Jersey> She didn't notice his moment of inward panic while she released him lightly so he'd be able to fall as he wanted and collected a map before moving to sit beside him. "Sometimes sooner or later, they're not perfectly timed unfortunately." She crossed one leg over the other and then glanced at the man from the corner of her eye, a frown playing across her lips as she reached over to lightly give his leg a squeeze. "Are you alright?" She asked, assuming he was simply dizzy or something until she noticed the twitch in his eye and her frown deepened. "I can make it home alone from here, if you'd like to go on and do your business before going back to the cabin?"


<Peter Parkman> His green eyes widened as he turned to Jersey and noted her concern. He pulled his lower lip into his mouth, licking it thoughtfully before shaking his head. "No, I'll be fine," he said. His own palms rested on his thighs; they didn't sweat, didn't leave patches. He glanced down at Jersey's hand on his leg, his eye giving another inadvertent twitch. He hadn't yet had the chance to get Enver's opinion on the whole human companion thing. He thought maybe that'd be the first thing he'll do, once leaving Jersey for the night. He needed to know whether he needed to move himself and the dogs to the Asylum and break all contact with her, thought it would break his heart to do so. And if not that, he needed to know how to relax. Because he certainly wasn't doing a very good job at it so far.


<Jersey> Lightly, she adjusted to face him on the bench and crossed her legs underneath herself, his coat making it an almost laughable task before she managed. Squeezing his thigh once more, she removed it and leaned forward lightly. "Are you absolutely sure? I can't exactly pick you up like a feather if you pass out on me," her tone was teasing as she gave a soft smile and a light incline of her head.
<Peter Parkman> "Just don't start bleeding, and I can promise you I won't pass out," Peter said. He was an open book, as much as he could be, and he had hated the sight of blood even before he was turned, even before that particular dislike was heightened. He was man enough to admit to his weaknesses. Blood was one of them. He knew he would not pass out for the simple fact that he no longer needed oxygen. It was lack of oxygen that caused most people to pass out, wasn't it? Though he took heavy breaths, it was a mere comforting habit rather than the physical need.


<Jersey> "If that were to occur, I'm pretty sure both of us would likely be unconscious, because I don't like it much either." She crinkled her nose at the thought before she gave a light nod of her head, "but I promise for as much as I can manage, that I will not bleed if I can avoid doing so on my way back to the apartment." She thought about something quietly before speaking once more, "Tell me something about yourself from when you were a kid?" Her green eyes sparkled with curiosity.


<Peter Parkman> The idea of it brought a smile to Peter's lips, just imagining the both of them passed out cold on the train platform. He nodded appreciatively, about to make some quip about not slipping on any ice between here and there, when she asked her next question, and Peter's mouth snapped shut. Just like that, his entire childhood seemed to flash before his eyes; and he was forced to think of one single thing. He was about to answer again, before again snapping his mouth shut. He stared into space for a full ten seconds, shifting a little in his seat. "I was an only child. I can't remember why, but there was some running joke... every year, on my birthday, my mother would buy me a book that had something to do with feminism," he said. And he still had the majority of them on his bookshelf, too.


<Jersey> The blonde watched him smile, quietly thinking to herself about the fact she thought he had a nice smile and that every now and then, she could still feel those lips on her forehead from when he'd fled her hotel room. As he shifted lightly in his sleep, her hand went to his leg once more where she gave a little squeeze and she chuckled a bit. "That sounds interesting to say the least."
<Peter Parkman> He wanted to ask why she had asked, but he thought that perhaps she wanted to live vicariously through the memories of others. I realised that, were he to ask the same question, she would not be presented with a slideshow of all her childhood memories. She'd only have a blank stage with nothing on it, with all her memories hiding behind the curtains. "I'm sorry that you can't remember," he said with a slight frown. "Have you had any progress...?" he asked, obviously referring to her memories.


<Jersey> Jersey gave a soft shake of her head before she paused, removing her phone and then scrolling to a picture she'd taken an image of. "Well. I found out who the guy I can't get ahold of is, Austin." She turned her phone around to show a picture of a younger, brunette Jersey and a teenage boy beside her. "He's my older brother," She pursed her lips idly in thought, "who I keep getting a strange feeling about in the pit of my stomach. I found another of us and who I think were my parents." She inclined her head faintly while she lifted her eyebrows lightly, "On the plus side, though? I have the stitches out, and my headaches are still kind of around but I don't feel the need to lock myself in a closet to hide from any traces of light when I get a migraine."


<Peter Parkman> "Huh. Well that's good," Peter said, scrutinizing the picture that she showed him. "How'd you find out about him? His name, I mean?" Peter asked. His gaze drifted from the picture and up to Jersey's brow; so long as there were no wounds that could inadvertently split open, he'd be fine. He had no idea what he would do, and whether he'd be able to do anything to help her. He had no idea whether the scent of her blood would both arouse him and terrify him. He was not exactly keen to find out. It was at that moment that the train chose to hiss into the station; it was still early enough that there were plenty of people gathered to catch the train, and plenty of people getting off. Peter stood, and waited for Jersey to join him before stepping through the doors.


<Jersey> "Back of photographs." She explained lightly, "And I only know that I know one Austin, who will not answer his phone or return my phone calls." She explained lightly and then got up after Peter, moving to stand beside him afterwards on the train, "He's probably in his thirties, I'm guessing five years older?" She frowned before skimming through her pictures to see if she'd saved the others only to find the one Peter had sent her previously. Casting a light grin, she tucked her phone away and looked up at him. "It'll come back to me when I least expect it."