♪ Be careful what you eat ♪ (CLOSED)

[Skylar]

((Set Monday 13th October 2014))

"You bit me!"
"I what now?"
"You ******* bit me!"
"I... erm... I have no idea what you're talking about."
That's how my conversation with Dillon started this evening. Guy practically kicked me off the sofa. Obviously no-one told him you don't hit women. Jerk. In some ways I guess I deserved it, he still has my teeth marks in his neck after all. I thought feeding was supposed to be easy; boy was I ever wrong. I'd been putting off feeding because I wasn't really sure what you did. I mean he told me. He explained it. But well. Yeah. If this were an exam I'd get an F I’m sure. I thought I'd have fangs or something. You know the kind you see in the movies, all sharp and pointy. Instead I had to practically chew through his skin. No wonder he remembers. I know I need to handle the situation and I know people aren't supposed to know about us, so I do the only thing I could think to do; I dragged him to the bedroom and handcuffed him to his bed.
I know what you're thinking. Where did I get the handcuffs from? Well. They aren't mine. They are Dillon’s. As for how I know where Dillon keeps them, well I'll leave that to your imagination. I'm not one to kiss and tell. Or **** and... well you get the idea. And don’t go shaking your head or anything. Who are you to judge me? We've all done it at least once. Haven't we? I’m pretty sure we’ve all been there. Some of us more than others. I’ve noticed that it’s usually the quiet ones or the ones that look straight laced that seem to be the most depraved. Dillon’s not one of those. He’s kind of middle of the road. He’s a bit too up his own arse for my liking. Doesn’t seem to bother his groupies though, and he has a fair few of those. Lead guitarist. Singer. What woman wouldn’t a guy that knows how to put on a show and exudes confidence. Oh yeah. Right. Me. At least when it comes to Dillon. I know him too well. He doesn’t respect me in any way, shape or form but he is a friend. A good friend even.
I make sure he's secure and then I borrow his laptop and fire off a quick - if not slightly cryptic - email to Elliot asking what I should do next. Restraining him was about the only good idea I had besides killing him but that seemed a little extreme. Not to mention the fact that I’m having trouble just feeding right now. Killing someone might be a line I just can’t cross. I mean sure, we’ve all fantasised about killing someone. But that’s all it is. Thoughts. Maybe plans. Detailed plans even. But how many people actually follow through on things like that? Taking a life just isn’t something I’m prepared to do. At least not right now. Maybe even never. I like life. I like people. I’m no one of those vegan, animal rights freaks but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a heart.
It's not long before Elliot replies. He tells me to stay put and he'll come to me. I type out my address -well Dillon's address - and I hit send. Now to wait. What am I supposed to do to the pass the time? Dillon’s not exactly screaming the place down but lord knows how long Elliot will take to get here and I can’t keep him locked up forever. He’s not going to drop this. I know he isn’t. He’s already wondering what the **** is going on.
He's moaning more loudly in the background now and if I don’t find a way to keep him quiet he’s going to attract attention from the neighbours. They’re used to a certain level of noise from this flat but this sound is quite different. Dillon actually sounds scared. I think about it for a moment. I'm not really sure what to do with him, so I shut him up the only way I know how. Again. No judging. A woman has to do, what a woman has to do. Besides. Elliot will be here soon and then we can get this all straightened out. I hope. Dillon may be a bit of an egotistical prat and we may argue like cat and dog, but he has his moments. Usually when I'm off my nut. I wish I were drunk now. This is going to be… different. I shiver at the thought of what I'm about to do. I feel dirty. Still it's this or duct tape and if he has that, I have no idea where he keeps it.
As I kiss him he calms down. God men are easy. At least men like Dillon are. I wonder what’s taking Elliot so long and find myself stopping to look at the clock every few minutes. This doesn’t impress Dillon but I don’t really care. Dude went from scare to horny in like seconds. I should go gay. I contemplate that for a moment. Nah. Women just don’t do it for me.

[Lancaster]

The email was unexpected.

Elliot had his phone set up to alert him whenever he got an email, but these days he rarely got any emails, unless it was spam. And he had the filters set to make sure none of that **** got through. When the phone buzzed in his pocket he assumed it would be a text message, but it wasn’t. It was an email. From Skylar. One untamed brow arched as he opened the message; that same eyebrow crawled into a frown as he continued to read.

“**** everything,” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” Jessica asked. Jessica, who had lasted the longest at Bunk. One of his most trusted employees, with her Irish accent her untainted work ethic. As far as Eliot was aware, Jessica knew nothing about vampires or the seedier occupants of this city. She did not work down in the pub, where they stocked the bottles of blood, where all employees were taught and trained and schooled to either never question what was in those bottles, or to never ever tell anyone what they were or who they sold the blood to. Carefully sourced bottles of blood from Ariadne’s very special vineyard. Elliot never wanted to ask how the blood was gathered. He shuddered, just to think of it. But it was what the customers wanted.

“**** everything,” Elliot repeated out loud. Jessica’s mouth opened and Elliot shook his head. “Don’t ask,” he told her, before walking away so that she couldn’t. He took the stairs down to the pub at a clattering pace. He typed out his very short reply to Skylar as he walked, weaving his way toward the office. He blended in; no one who wasn’t a regular would know who he was, and that he owned the bar. His jeans were of a dark—near black—denim. The shirt was a light blue, lone-sleeved, though rolled up to his elbows. The bottom half was crumpled, where it had once been tucked in but had come out over the course of the evening.

In the office, he called Roxette. The blonde answered with breezy attitude.

“What’s up, master of the universe?” was how she greeted him. Elliot rolled his eyes.

“I need you to come help me with something. Help me explain something,” he said.

“Explain what, exactly?

“Explain you.”

“Explain me?”

“Yes. Don’t make me spell it out. You know what I mean. I’ll come get you. Where are you?”

Of course Roxette couldn’t say no. Elliot had told her, in no uncertain terms, that he needed her to help. He didn’t give her a choice, and so she didn’t have one. That was how it worked. In the interim, Skylar had sent the address that Elliot needed. He pulled on a brown leather jacket, picked up his keys and the spare helmet, and made his way out the front door of the pub. For appearance’s sake, he left by the front door every once in a while. Anyway, that’s where the bike was parked, and it was easier to drive than it was to use the various methods of tomes and fadeportals and trains with Roxette involved, too.

Within ten minutes he had Roxette straddled on the back of the growling Triumph. Within twenty minutes, he had that Triumph parked in front of the address that Skylar had given him; within twenty-one minutes, both he and the androgynous Roxette were standing at the door waiting, after having knocked three times.

Whose house was this, anyway? And was he even going to be able to get in? He would have to wait and see.

[Elliot’s Attire][Roxette’s Attire]

[Skylar]

"Bit busy!" I call out before I realise what I'm saying. At what point I actually got into this I have no idea. I guess it's like riding a bike, you just let go and instinct takes over. I place a hurried kiss to Dillon's forehead and tell him not to go anywhere as I pull away. Yeah. I went there. Clichéd I know. Dude is cuffed to the bed, he's not going anywhere.
As soon as my feet hit the floor, my hand is reaching for whatever it can find of my clothing. I pull on two items and go to the front door, half staggering over my feet as I try to put on my kickers as I walk. The t-shirt goes on easier and before opening the door I pull my flowing hair free of it. As I open the door I blink to see one more person than expected. He's brought some girl, no guy, no girl, with him. For a moment I stare at her as I try to figure out if my earlier thoughts were wrong. Maybe I did swing that way. She's kind of a hottie. I blink again and push those thoughts from my mind. Women are perfectly capable of admiring another beautiful woman without the need for having any actual sexual desire towards them; at least this is what I remind myself. God, what is the world coming too when you feel the need to police and/or explain your own thoughts to yourself.
"Hi. Hello. Welcome," I tug my t-shirt down a little, as it doesn't really cover much of anything and then smile at Elliot.
"I wasn't sure how long you were going to be and he got all whiny. Had to shut him up."
I look to the female.
"I couldn't find the duct tape."
I shrug as if that explained it all reasonably away. I know I probably look like a bit of whore now but I know I'm not. I could count on one hand the number of sexual partners I'd had. Well two. Okay I might just be in double digits but that still didn't make me a whore. I'm single at 28 for crying out loud. I'm allowed to have more than a few exes in my past. And a couple of one night stands. It's not my fault alcohol impairs my judgement. I sigh. I wish I had that excuse now. I'm back to feeling dirty again. I blush now and scratch at my head, my fingers racking through my unkempt hair.
"So... you coming in or what?"
I push the door open and stand back so that they can enter. It's not my place to issues invitations though, not really. This is Dillon's flat. I hear him calling from the bedroom asking who was at the door.
"Jehovah’s witnesses," I call back.
Obviously I’m lying. I'm not entirely sure how to explain all this to Dillon, but then that was the reason Elliot was here. To fix my problem. I know I probably need to go and uncuff him now. I need to make him dress for company too. That shouldn't take long, but I hover by the door for a few more moments as I wait for both my guests to enter so that I can close the door and block Dillon's escape. It's a stupid thought really. He probably couldn't even outrun me these days, and Elliot was way older than I was, which meant he had to be even faster. Right? Did it work that way? I shrug to myself. I could ask that question later if I remembered.

[Lancaster]

The door opened and Elliot and Roxette were greeted by a scantily clad Skylar. Elliot could practically smell the sex in the air, and he had to keep himself from rolling his eyes. Was this really a problem? Really? He’d come raging over here in a **** everything mood and now here Skylar was standing, post-coitus, happy as ******* Larry. This was the only reason why Elliot didn’t smirk; he saw the way that Skylar did a double-take, with Roxette standing behind him. Could feel the confusion bubbling from her. Roxette seemed to have that effect on people, men and women alike. It was no doubt Roxette’s own charismatic and confident allure that had branded her as Elliot’s thrall. He hadn’t done it on purpose. It had been an accident; she was the first ever human he had ever enthralled and as such, and become like a surrogate progeny. He cared for her as well as he cared for the rest of them.

Roxette whistled as she sidled past Elliot and meandered into the home. Her hands were pushed into her pockets, and her heavily made-up eyes swept the interior with avid curiosity. Roxette was the epitome of 90s punk. She was an offshoot of a bygone era. She exuded anarchy and reckless lack of care. Especially now that she had an all-powerful sugar daddy on her side. She went ahead and wandered down the hall toward the bedroom, calling over her shoulder as she went: “He has to be invited in by the owner, ducky.”

Elliot watched his thrall disappear from sight, and shrugged his broad shoulders at Skylar. He refused to look down, at where she was trying to pull her shirt to cover herself. It wasn’t working. He could see that in his peripheral. No, he didn’t see Skylar as a daughter figure, though he supposed even if he did, this would still be awkward. Maybe more like a younger sister, if anything. A cousin? Maybe that was it.

He had tried, and he had failed. One step toward that threshold and he knew it wasn’t going to budge for him.

“I’m going to go ahead and assume you don’t actually own this place. I need an invite from the owner,” he said. “That part is true, mythologically speaking. It’s gonna be the same for you, wherever you go,” he explained. And then waited, patiently, his own hands tucked neatly into his pockets, just like Roxette’s were.

[Skylar]

Ducky? How old do I ******* look? Who says ducky in this day and age? My nan I think. My eyes follow the androgynous female and she enters Dillon's flat and starts nosing around. Invited? Had Dillon invited me in? Hmm... I guess he must have, whether I knew it or not. Well it was nice to know I was welcome at least, even if he could be a bit of a prick.
I'm momentarily distracted by the way in which Elliot is looking at me while I try and hold on to at least a little of my dignity. Granted my current outfit didn't leave much to imagination but bathing suits were more revealing than this. Maybe it's just the thought of him seeing me in my underwear? I push the thought aside and nod as he needs an invite. I hope it doesn't have to be sincere. I might have issues getting Dillon to invite in some random guy he doesn't know. Hopefully he won't notice anything is off. I hold up my finger to Elliot to indicate that he should wait right there. Another man in my left kept in place by some sort of restraint. Great. So this was what my life was becoming. I seriously needed to get myself a manual.
I have a sudden Buffy flashback to a scene in the library where they're talking about there being a Slayer's Guide and Buffy's all confused because she never got hers. Maybe that's what had happened here. Elliot didn't think I could follow the rules if they were in black and white, so he was leading me as best he could instead.
I race down the hallway after the woman whose name I don't yet know and block the path to Dillon's bedroom. She must have checked Russ' room first. It's a good job the guy is rarely ever home. We only see him from one to the nest sometimes due to the number of projects he's a part of.
"Look. I don't know who you are," I tel her, "Or what you think you're doing. But if you want to stay you should go wait in the living room. Even sleazy guys can get a bit funny if a random woman walks into their room while their practically naked."
Honestly, I'm not sure how Dillon would react, he might just think all Christmas' had come at once if I walked back into his bedroom with that one. I open the door, back into the room as keep my eye on her and then lock the door. Just in case. I probably shouldn't care what she does or what she sees but even Dillon doesn't deserve to be humiliated.
"Dillon? Erm..." I scratch at my head again, my feet crossed at the ankles as I look him over. "We have... well... company. I need for you to meet someone and try not being you will you. This guy's really into music. There's no telling what he might be able to do for us down the road."
It's not really a lie. Elliot had already set me up with some cash so he wasn't hard up. He was seriously into his music too, this much was obvious even with what little I knew of him.
"I haven't forgotten you know. Distract me all you like. And twice on Sundays," he gave me a cheeky grin and I groaned in response. "But we are going to talk about yesterday. You need help or something. It's not normal to go around biting people Sky."
I groan even loader and cover my face with hands as I tilt my head back. God help me, I think as I slide my hands down over my face and then peek at him through my fingers. Wish as I might, this situation wasn't going to just go away.
I move to the bed and uncuff him. He's not mad at me anymore, that much is obvious but I already know he's going to expect us to pick up where we left off once we're alone again. I half welcome that idea in my subconscious, as it would mean he isn't freaked out by what I'd become and/or had bought whatever lie it was that Elliot had told him.
"If this guy is so important?" he asks as he pulls on his jeans. "Why'd ya answer the door to him looking like that?"
I look down at myself and flush with colour. ****. Dillon wasn't the only one that needed to make themselves look presentable. I scrabble around on the floor looking for what I needed, trying to find my clothes amongst the mass of laundry that littered his floor.
"Ew Dillon! You're a pig," I complain as I pick up a pair of women's underwear off the floor and throw it at him.
"What?"
"Well they aren't mine. I pity the poor cow that left those behind."
"You weren't comp..."
"Shut it." I clamp my hand over his mouth. "Don't even think of finishing that sentence or I'll end you. Got it."
I remove my hand and he laughs at me. I continue to dress in my fitted, blue jeans and then grab my scrunchy from off the side board and tied my hair back in a ragged looking ponytail.
"You know you love me right?" he teases.
I glare at him, grab him by the wrist and practically drag him to the front door.
"Jesus woman. You been working out? You don't have to hold my wrist so tight." He complains.
"Wuss." I say over my shoulder as I poke my tongue out at him. But technically he has a point, so I release him and begin to introduce him to Elliot.
"Dillon this is Elliot. Elliot, Dillon." I gesture with my hand from one to the other at the appropriate moment and forgetting the punk chick, turn my attention back to Dillon.
"What you got no manners? Invite the guy in will ya. Elliot's the sort that doesn't like to intrude."
Dillon glares at me and it doesn't take much to know what he's thinking. Elliot was intruding, as he'd interrupted what to him, was an otherwise pleasant experience. I catch Dillon rubbing at his wrist, either from his time spent in the cuffs or from me having dragging him about. I don't much care which and slap at his hand to make him stop.
"Geez woman. Okay. Okay. Come on in guy."
What I don't realise at this point, as I was preoccupied by what was about to happen, was that even with Elliot's friend about, Dillon still hasn't taken his eyes off of me. I was kind of used to his staring now, so it didn't creep me out or strike me as odd or anything. I knew he only did it to try and piss me off. He was too much of a player to have genuine feelings for any woman. At least that's what I'd always believed.

[Lancaster]

Roxette felt like a free spirit these days, more so than usual. Even so, she wasn’t there to rob the place. She wasn’t there to cause any harm. She was there because Elliot had asked her to be there and so she couldn’t refuse. May as well make the best of the situation, because in her experience thus far Elliot hadn’t shown much inclination to boss her around. Christ, the guy seemed guilty every time he asked her to do something.

In the grand scheme of things, Roxette felt like Elliot was her pimp. Except she was no damned prostitute. Not really. The guy gave her money. Gave her a place to stay. Kept her slick and clean like one of those daughters of rich folk who inherited all their money and didn’t have to find no stinking job. A socialite, yeah. That’s what she was. But of the alternative kind – the kind that stayed out of the papers.

Though now Roxette was starting to get very curious about why she was even there. Most of the time when she was summoned by her big-bad-vampire was because one of his minions needed feeding. Because he wanted to teach them how to go about it without killing a person. Yeah, okay – maybe in that way she was a bit of a prostitute. She got paid to give away her blood. She supposed there were worst things in life.

But this chick didn’t look like she needed anyone’s blood. She looked perfectly damned healthy—even had that post-coital glow happening, with her flushed cheeks and lack of proper clothing. And, as Skylar blocked Roxette’s entrance to the far room with a few well-placed words. There was a guy in there. A sleazy one. Roxette could come to her own conclusions about that. The girl threw up her hands in a I surrender fashion and back-tracked down the hallway. She stood inside the door, out of Elliot’s reach.

“This is kinda funny, you realise,” she said. Elliot levelled a bemused expression upon her.

“It’s fuckin’ hilarious, Roxxi. I’m laughing so hard out here,” he said. To which Roxette simply rolled her eyes, her entire body rolling with them, until she had her back to Elliot and was sauntering toward one of the couches. She was quite talented at making herself at home wherever she was.

“Always so bloody serious, you are. Lighten up a little, would you? Were you ever a fun guy, or were you always so fuckin’ broody?” she said. She slumped into the couch and threw her booted feet up onto the coffee table. Elliot just smiled. He knew who he was and what he was capable of, he just didn’t know, just yet, whether this situation called for a little more seriousness than anyone in the apartment at this moment was willing to give it.

When Skylar re-emerged, she had a guy in tow. A scruffy looking guy who was probably sporting a few tattoos; one of those who’d probably look good in a pair of wayfarers, sucking back a coffee after a long night out.

As soon as the invitation was offered, it was like an invisible force field shut down. Elliot was able to enter without any problems, and he did so with a broad smile on his face. If there was something he knew how to do – or hoped he knew how to do, anyway – it was deal with people. He seemed to do okay in his business ventures. More than okay, really. And the shop keepers certainly liked him a lot. He held out his hand for Dillon to shake, keeping with the traditional kind of mannerisms that Skylar had already hinted that he stuck to.

“Nice to meet you, Dillon. I am sorry to interrupt, but I did get a phone call so I assumed I was welcome,” he said with a short but genuinely warm laugh, his blue eyes glued to Skylar momentarily before he turned his attention back to Dillon.

Meanwhile, Roxette and stood back up and had made her way over to the gathered group. She leaned a slender arm on Skylar’s shoulder and crossed one ankle of the other, using the other woman for support. Elliot saw the movement and figured he’d better introduce his thrall, too.

“And this is Roxette. Roxette – Skylar, and Dillon,” Elliot said. Roxette lifted her chin by way of greeting, though there was a fox-ish smile painted upon her red lips. She turned her face so that she could speak directly into Skylar’s ear, quietly, though her hazel eyes never once stopped raking Dillon from head to foot and back again.

“I can see why you’d keep him around,” she said, woman to woman. Man, sleaze or not, that guy was hot.

[Skylar]

I find myself chewing on the inside of my cheek as the guys play nice with one another. Not sure where these nerves have come from but they're there. I feel a little like a girl introducing her first boyfriend to her father for the very first time, only I don't actually have those kinds of feelings for Dillon, so it makes no sense to me. They seem to play nice though and I quickly begin to relax. I was surprised Dillon shook his hand, cos he can be a real baby about stuff like that so I guess he didn't see Elliot as a threat to his livelihood. He stopped shaking hands with anyone he didn't think he could beat in a fight a while back. I know why too, even though he thinks I don't and that I haven't notice. Guy thinks I'm one of those kinds of blondes I'm sure; the vapid kind that couldn't have an original thought without killing herself. The story goes that he pissed off the wrong guy. Hit on his girl most likely. So the guy crushed his hand when he shook it. Dillon couldn't play to his usual standards for a week or so. I can't help but think to myself, "If only he knew." Elliot could kick his ***. Hell I could too if I wanted to. I'm pretty sure of that. I could have kicked his *** on a good day back before I became the monster I am now.
Elliot introduces the female he brought with him. Finally I have a name to go with the face. Chick makes me nervous and I have no idea why. I tell myself I'm not going to let it get to me and then I find her leaning on my shoulder and whispering in my ear.
"Huh?"
I turn to look at her. To some people she'd of been uncomfortably close but I was this kind of person myself so I don't let it bother me. Instead I half glare at her. It's then that I notice she's checking Dillon out. Well that figures. People like that are bound to attract one another.
Dillon's clearing some of my **** off the sofa so we can all sit down. I don't know when he became such a gentleman? I conclude it must be for Roxy's benefit.
"I keep him around cos he's good with his hands," I say before I realise just how wrong that sounds and my cheeks flush with colour. "I mean... He plays real good. He's a guitarist. His voice isn't half bad either."
I kind of begrudge praising him at times and even though I whispered my reply I half think he heard me, as I saw him pause what he was doing for a moment. Great. Like his ego isn't big enough already.
"Make yourselves at home," he says and it's then that I pull away from Roxy and go over to Elliot.
I'm not sure what his plan is or if there even is a plan and before we all sit down and start gabbing like old friends, I need to know why he's here an what kind of help he's planning on being. As much as i do have the urge to throttle Dillon on like a daily basis, I'm pretty sure I couldn't actually kill him. Not on purpose at least.
I grab Elliot by the hand and drag him over to the kitchen area. I know it looks strange, Dillon just invited us all to sit down. I doubt he'll pay much attention though, not if Roxy sits with him and keeps him company. She was looking him over like he was a three course dinner and she hadn't eaten in days. Chick was welcome to him as far as I was concerned.
I turn my attention to my sire and begin speaking in hushed tones so Dillon won't hear me.
"So... erm... what's the plan? He knows I bit him. He knows I don't usually do that sort of thing. With him anyways. And well... He was kind of annoyed until I..."
I let that sentence drop. I know I look ashamed of myself and I can feel my cheeks burning again.
"We don't have to kill him do we?"
There's a lot more concern in voice in that sentence than I'd of liked. I'm no serial killer but I'm not wimpy vegetarian either. I can stand the sight of blood and that. I just think life's a gift and it shouldn't be wasted. Sure. Technically he's food to me now but well... He's my friend.
I glance in Dillon's direction to see what he's up to. I've no doubt he's entertaining himself and as I listen, I hear him asking Roxy why she's here. Why they both are. My explanation in the bedroom wasn't more than a few words. We needed him. But Dillon had no clue as to why. He’s sprawled out on one end of the sofa; my end. The dick. He knows that’s my place and he knows that if he doesn’t move by the time I return that I’ll damn will sit on him too. I swear he dos it on purpose at times. I roll my eyes to myself and return my attention to my saviour.

[Lancaster]

Roxette smiled knowingly. Good with his hands, huh? She didn’t even listen to whatever explanation Skylar tried to splutter to make up for her former comment; something to do with guitars and a good voice. She had a moment to mutter something about Skylar seeming to have a type, before wandering off to the lounge room after Dillon. Roxette certainly did seem to have her eyes on the prize, and she wasn’t about to let it go. Like an expert fly-fisher, she was patiently stalking her prey, gently flicking out the bait with practiced ease.

Elliot languidly followed Skylar to the kitchen. The anxiety spilled from her like a too-full saucepan on boil. Elliot’s smile didn’t falter; the one that he had brandished for Dillon still clung to his features, though this time it was for Skylar’s comfort. He shook his head. He, too, had his anxieties but he hoped his hastily constructed plan would work. Where Skylar might have been animated by her nervous energy, Elliot still looked relaxed and completely calm. He laughed, as if Skylar had said something silly. He shook his head and replied in a low-toned murmur.

“Of course we’re not going to kill him,” he said. “I brought Roxette along so that I could explain to you – she’s not just any ordinary person. She’s… well, in commonly used terms she’s considered my thrall. It happened not long after I was turned. I didn’t know what I was doing. It was an accident. But she’s never too far away and everything I ask her to do, she does,” he said. He could have demonstrated this by action alone, but he didn’t want Skylar to freak out. Best to explain his plan now, so that Skylar could calm down.

Over in the lounge room, Roxette had settled in beside Dillon. She wasn’t stupid, Roxette. She didn’t plonk herself down right beside him; she didn’t smother him. She sat only on the same couch, at a distance that could have been deemed appropriate for strangers, at a stretch. She was close enough to be able to comfortably reach behind Dillon’s head to idly play with her hair, should she wish to. Of course she didn’t. Not just yet. It was too soon.

“I’m just along for the ride, Ducky,” she said. She called everyone Ducky. It was a habit picked up from childhood. “I think maybe I’m supposed to be your distraction,” she said with a sharp grin. “I’m a master thief, see. I’ll steal you right out from under Skylar’s nose…” she continued, that grin sharpening to a dangerous glint.

Back in the kitchen, Elliot was still explaining his plan to Skylar.

“In time, you’ll find that it’s easier for you to persuade people. You can’t let Dillon tell anyone about you. You can’t kill him. So you can enthral him, like I did to Roxette. You can try tonight – we can see if you can do it already. If not? I’ll talk to him. Make up a story about this crazy manager—“ he gestured to himself, “Who told you that consuming blood was good for the vocal cords. I’ll then say that I said no such thing. That you’d read some silly article somewhere in some bunk magazine,” Elliot said. A good plan. A plan that required that he himself tell no lies.

“If neither of those plans work, then I’ll have Roxette trail him. She’s pretty ******* good at a hog tie when she wants to be. Sooner or later you’ll be able to enthral him. That’s what you have to do. It’s either that or kill him. Any questions?” he asked. It was a hasty plan. And it better bloody work.

[Skylar]

A wave of relief sweeps through me as Elliot tells me we aren't going to kill him. I really wasn't sure I'd been able to get on board with that plan. If there was a good reason to kill someone, I certainly hadn't heard it. He goes on to explain who Roxette is. I nod but I don't really understand what he's talking about. This whole vampire thing is a little too new to me and I'm still dealing with that fact that it's all real. The one thing I do take away from all of this, is that Elliot isn't perfect either. That, and I'm unsure how he's going to walk me through a process he stumbled upon by accident himself.
I kind of like the idea of having some control over Dillon. At the very least I might be able to give the poor girls of this city a night off from him and his womanising ways. Then it hits me. If I control Dillon, I control the band. Finally we might actually be able to decide on a name, and a direction. I can't help but feel excited by this plan now and a pleasant sensation runs up my spine.
Dillon's looking past Roxette to me when I next glance over at him. God knows what she just said but he actually looks worried. She might not see it that way though, he's giving her one of his "I'm so charming" smiles that seems to make the ladies melt. It was the look in his eyes that gave him away. A smile crosses my lips. I like seeing him squirm.
When he asks if I have any questions I pause. I half purse my lips as my eyes dart from side to side as I consider the plan and if there's any more information I require. Okay. Got it. I focus back on Elliot and smiles sweetly.
"Just one question right now. But its kind of an important one," I begin. "How exactly do I exert my control over him. There's a word for this I'm sure. Like possess him or something. Whatever the correct term is, I need to know how I go about doing it?"
I notice just how close Roxette is to him. She actually likes him. I'm not sure if I'm surprised or relieved. Actually I do know. I'm a little insulted. Yes. I kind of told myself already that she can have him. But not ten minutes ago I had him tied to the bed. Does that girl have no morals? She doesn't know he's not mine. Or maybe she does. Maybe Elliot told her. I'm sure Elliot knows I'm single. I know he's not. The last few days are all a bit of a blur, so much said and learned already.
"Erm...Sky..."
I turn as Dillon calls my name.
"While you're in the kitchen do you wanna grab me a beer."
Grab your own damn beer, I think to myself but I'm reaching for the refrigerator before the words have even passed through my brain. I don't know why I let him wrap me around his finger too. His couch isn't that comfy.
"Anyone else want a drink?" I ask looking from Roxette to Elliot and back to the chick again.

[Lancaster]

Elliot grimaced. It was a question he knew was coming. And he didn’t have the answer.

“I don’t really know,” he answered. “I did it to Roxette by accident. She was… well,” he said, gesturing to her. It should be immediately obvious that Roxette wasn’t exactly the submissive type. She was an anarchist used to living on her own and doing as she pleased. She had tried to thieve from Elliot and hadn’t succeeded. Elliot had confronted her, and she’d put up a fight. She really wanted that hundred bucks she’d nearly succeeded in taking; she held it firmly in her grip, and Elliot held firmly to her wrist. He wouldn’t let her go – and it was then that she’d started screaming blue murder. She’d started screaming rape and Elliot, pressured and terrified, had exerted a very strong desire that she shut up. He’d already been in a bad mood and this was the last straw. The need for her to do what he wanted her to do had pushed outward and all of a sudden Roxette was quiet and limp like a ragdoll, her voice stuck in her throat and her eyes wide and wondrous. She knew she wanted to keep screaming but she couldn’t.

From then on she’d been stuck with him, and he with her.

“You just have to want them to do what you want them to. Really badly. Gather that want inside of you and project it onto them. At least, I think that was how it worked,” he said, as Skylar moved to the fridge to retrieve the beer that Dillon had requested. When Skylar asked if anyone else wanted one, Roxette perked up and called out for a beer, too. Elliot shook his head. Alcohol actually managed to have an effect on him these days, and if this situation should go awry he wanted to have a clear head.

He waited in the kitchen with Skylar as she prepared the drinks, just in case she should have any more questions. In the lounge room, Roxette had indeed taken Dillon’s smile to mean what she wanted it to mean, though Elliot rolled her eyes at her and shook his head. The frown that soon tilted the corners of Roxette’s lips was one of disappointment.

She knew what Elliot was capable of. She knew that that shake of his head meant that Dillon really had no interest in her. Roxette, who sometimes liked to use Elliot as a wing man when trying to hook up because he could tell her who she was wasting her time on or not. Sometimes it was hit and miss. But sometimes it worked. A lousy use of this particular ability, probably, but it could be fun sometimes.