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Smooth jazz filtered from within the darkened club, rising up and spilling out in the night. The bar had changed. Even without entering, Clo could tell. The place must have fallen under new ownership. She hadn’t been there since the night she turned Raven -- since the night she’d chosen to save Raven -- and maybe she should have gone back sooner. The place had significance. The place brought up all sorts of memories. And those memories slowly slipped from her mind, replaced with the reality that something had changed. God, she hated change. And yet a new club stared her right in the face. Clo tried being open minded, but she couldn’t stand jazz music. She wasn’t a child of that time and she refused to immerse herself in a culture that had no place in her world. For Raven, though, Clover slowly approached the line of people waiting outside of the club. The chilly night air had women wrapping their thin coats tightly around themselves, while their dates crowded closer, trying to fill in some of the missing heat. Kisses exchanged. Hugs exchanged. Clover watched it all from the back of the line, the line that slowly worked its way forward. The people shuffled along like zombies, but they entered into the club in the way that the music filtered out. Gradually.

“Are you here by yourself?” Clover had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Someone actually gathered the nerve to talk to her, and she wanted nothing to do with him. “Have you been here before?” Clo ignored his first question and answered the second with a shake of her head. It was her turn to play the mute card, her turn to pretend as if she lacked vocal cords. “You’re going to love it. Tonight is Thelonious Monk night.” He looked at her with nothing but pure enthusiasm, his green eyes aflame with delight. Clover didn’t know anything about jazz, so she simply nodded once more. Thelonious Monk. Probably a trumpet player. Ninety percent of jazz musicians played the trumpet, in Clover’s mind. Maybe he’d broken away and took up the trombone. As if reading her lack of enthusiasm and translating it into the truth, the man deflated. “You don’t even know who he is, do you?”

“If I tell you I do, will you leave me alone?” Finally, she’d had enough of the man. The line moved up once more and she found herself directly in the middle, too close to the entrance to leave the line and start all over again. “He plays the trumpet or the trombone, right? Left handed? Southern?” She listed off a few stereotypes and the man scowled at her.

“He was a pianist,” the man basically spat.

“Well good for him. He can do what a great deal in this country can do, bang on some keys.” Clo grew just as heated then, as if she were picking up on his irritation and claiming it for her own. When the man scoffed and turned away, she smiled in triumph, but he just had to turn around.

“He passed away in 1982, so he’s not able to ‘bang on some keys’ anymore. Why are you even here, if you don’t like jazz music?” His irritation slowly receded, replaced by pure curiosity. Clover sighed and lifted herself up a little more, just trying to see over the bodies in front of her. They had too much time. The man would simply repeat his question or offer her another barrage of questions to replace said question.

“This place is different. I remember when it was a bar,” Clo supplied, willing to give him that much information. The man stopped, took on a look of concentration, and then nodded. He didn’t seem to have anything more to say, so the two lapsed into a comfortable silence. When the line moved again, Clover turned away from him and resumed facing forward. He slipped his hands back into the pockets of his khakis and she slipped one hand into the pocket of her red skinny jeans. “So are you here by yourself?”

“Are you trying something right now?” Clo looked over her shoulder at him and narrowed her eyes, trying her best to grasp his end game. His cheeks flushed and she couldn’t hold back the eye roll. Easily embarrassed. Check. “I’m not interested in drinks. I’m not interested in sharing a table. I’m here to meet someone.”

“Your boyfriend?” He asked that question and he seemed to know he was being too forward, for an apology quickly followed. “I didn’t mean to sound pushy. I’m sorry,” he said, not lacking an ounce of grace. Clover really wanted to sigh again, to roll her eyes and dismiss him as if she were waving off a fly, but she angled her body so that she faced him and could still keep an eye on the velvet rope they would soon reach.

“No, not my husband. I’m meeting someone I care about very much though.” She didn’t know how else to describe her feelings or her relationship with her childe. They didn’t spend all of their time together, but Clover adored the woman. Raven was one of the best things to happen to her. “Are you here with your girlfriend?” They were next in line then, and Clo fought the urge to ignore the man all over again.

“We broke up. She didn’t like jazz music either.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

Clover smiled at the doorman and waited for him to eye her up. When he nodded, he unhooked the velvet rope and let her into the club. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that the doorman refused entry to the nameless man. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she paused in the doorway. Clo turned back and looked at the doorman. “He’s with me,” she said, hoping that would be enough. And it was. The rope moved and the man darted forward, following her into the club as if he were a lost puppy. “Don’t bother me, once we’re in here. I’m going my way and you’re going yours.” Clover couldn’t see him nod, but he did nod. When they emerged into the dimly lit club, she went toward the bar. He followed. “Jesus christ, kid. Get lost.”

“My friends haven’t gotten here yet. Can’t I just hang out with you for a little while?”

“Your friends?” Clover pressed her lower back to the bar and looked around the rest of the club. People danced on the little dancefloor. People sat at tables and in booths. A few people lingered around the bar. Everything was red and black, sometimes velvet, sometimes not. The man grinned then and presented his hand to her. She didn’t want to, but she found herself shaking his hand.

“Sergeant Richard Blunt. Off duty. You can call me Rich.”

A soldier.

The white tips of her fangs softly glinted under the flashing lights as she moved along the line that granted entry into the place that had changed rapidly since she had been changed. Humans kept their distance from her as her simple aura, made them weary of her, the aura of a killer. Sure, it helped to keep temptation at bay, but sometimes it drew attention to the gap that many humans tend to keep. A minor problem at best, which was something that probably kept most of them alive.

Every bone in her body itched to kill, to sink her fangs into their necks and drain their bodies dry. Her skin crawled with the fervour to obliged to do just that, however she slowly fisted her hands and then relaxed them. The vampire didn’t want to draw the attention of the police for they didn’t exactly enjoy her presence all too well. Which had become second nature to her, the only exception to the rule of distance amongst society, was a dog that liked to occasionally follow her around whenever she walked the darkened streets. A companion of sorts, especially when she had returned to Harper Rock.

It was a place that she had stayed away for a time to grow without the Fforde making her want to bare her fangs. However, there was only one person that she wanted to see from Fforde, Clover, her sire. The woman had struggled with staying away from her sire for such a long period of time, so when she returned the only person that she wanted to see, was, well, Clover and if she got to annoy the other Fforde, if only slightly, then that was another bonus.

Slowly, the line moved forward and she came faced to face with the bouncer who, as soon as he saw her, took a step back. A slow smirk caressed her lips as Raven stepped towards him and angled her head, ”So I take it that that was an invitation to come in?” She softly chuckled at the man who continued to keep his distance from her before she simply walked passed him and into the club. A club which was once a bar playing music that disgusted the woman.

”Someone needs to kill the person that decided that jazz was a good idea,” Raven muttered to herself as she moved through the crowd that parted before her as she made her way towards the bar where she spied the familiar black locks of her sire, who seemed to be talking to some human man.

A simple scoff parted her lips as she brushed her own black and red locks over her shoulder and brushed past the man to stand beside Clover at the bar. Her palms pressed against the bar and she grinned at the bartender, who nearly dropped the glass that he held in shock. ”Opps, I totally forgot about those,” Raven sarcastically said in a tone that was coloured with humour as she dragged a fang over her bottom lip. ”Barkeep, a scotch would be… Delicious.” Not that she could taste it, but still.

Brown eyes watched as the bartender stumbled over his own feet to startle into action. A sigh of impatience was given and his actions fastened until the drink sat before her. Her right hand produced a bill to the man and she took control of the glass, lifted it to her lips and took a sip. While she couldn’t exactly taste it, the simple action helped to calm the impulse to kill, if only for a few seconds. It was a talent that she had developed while she had been absent from Harper Rock. A talent that had saved her from racking up a body count as she traveled from town to town.

”So, Clover. Mind introducing me to your new boy toy?” Raven chuckled as she twisted around to view her sire and the man standing nearby. Chocolate orbs traveled over the man’s form for a moment, ”I mean, I know that I didn’t like Jesse much, but a human? Really? I think that you could have done so much better.” The vampire chuckled and took another sip of her drink before leaning against the bar with a roll of her eyes. ”And what about this music? It's disgusting. Really, someone should kill the musician and put them out of their misery. Such a shame that the bar got converted into a club with poor tastes," Raven said as she eyed the human male for a moment, while a grinned caressed her lips. Oh she knew how she looked and she enjoyed the fact that her very aura gave humans the creeps and her choice of words? Had been deliberate.

While she had been working on curbing her appetite for blood, it still didn't mean that she was against physical violence, should the human throw the first punch. It would mean that he had started the fight and she, the vampire, was in the right to... Simply defend herself. A brow perked at him as if daring him to do something and she pondered the thought of what she would do if he did throw the first punch. Would it give her a chance to dial the lawyer's number? She had never had a lawyer before, so that would be interested. Or would she risk it just to break his skin and taste his blood just a little bit. Her nose wrinkled for a moment at the potential side effects of potentially seeing the man's memories in his blood. It had also been another reason why she had been... Curbing her appetites.

Her tongue parted her lips as she traced one of her fangs in thought. Would his blood even be worth the risk? Raven wondered before she clamped down on that thought and took a sip of her drink again, distracting herself from the internal urge to feed. ”So Clover, other than your lack of tastes in men, what else have I missed since Harper Rock needed one less unhinged vampire to make politics all the more smoother ever since vampires came out of the proverbial darkness?"

Rich. Clo must have had an unimpressed expression on her face, a scowl of some type, for the man wasted no time retracting his hand. He started talking about how he’d gotten involved in the military, and how he’d achieved his promotion, and Clo just turned around and lifted herself up onto one of the barstools. Rich continued standing next to her, trying to extend his voice over the sound of the live band. At one point, Clo swore he was shouting directly into her ear. She grabbed him by his collar and shoved him into the seat next to her, a silent recommendation that he both maintain the distance between their stools and lower the volume of his voice. He didn’t take the hints. He found her maneuver to be quite funny, if his chuckling said anything. “Listen, Rich, I’m meeting someone and you need to get lost. It’s been fun. Get the hell away from me,” she finally sighed. The man looked crushed, his brows drawn together to show his own confusion. What had he done wrong? What had he said wrong? Hadn’t they developed some type of relationship in the ten to fifteen minutes they’d spent together? He didn’t need to voice the questions for Clover to understand. His pathetic expression tried tugging at her heartstrings, but she refused to budge. When he slid off the stool and took up a stance next to her, she got up as well. He looked like he really wanted to say something to her, so she waited.

“Sorry to have intruded, ma’am,” he said, nodding his head. Before he had the chance to say anything more, Clo spotted the red-and-black hair. She saw her childe cut a path right through the club, as if invisible flames rose up from every angle. Clo felt an overwhelming sense of pride, but that feeling dimmed the moment her childe began to speak. Rich looked offended. Clover looked unhappy. “I’m not her ‘boy toy,’ so I’d appreciate it if,” he paused, took a step back, and then continued, “you’d not refer to me as such, ma’am.” He tacked on the ma’am as if he were trying to verbally stab her, to wound her with his words. He added the word in just to try and warn her that he had manners, but he had a limit too. Clo just raised her right hand to rub at her temple. Sometimes, she forgot that Raven came with an army, where most men and women walked alone.

Clo cared for her childe -- if she were honest with herself, she loved Raven -- but she didn’t always like the words that came from Raven’s mouth. The woman was sarcastic, sometimes downright rude, and she took that time to pick up her sense of humor and slap Clover in the face with it a few times. “Shut up, Rich,” Clover said, lightly nudging the man away from her. “Go look for your friends.” Instead of leaving, the man moved two seats down and maintained eye contact with Clover until she took the initiative to break it and turn away. “He’s not my boy toy. He’s a soldier, and I’d rather not get shot anymore tonight. I just healed the last two injuries I had from his soldier buddies.” The music faded, replaced by nothing but silence. The bartender came over, making sure to keep his distance from Raven, and asked if Clover needed anything. “I don’t think you serve what I want,” Clo said, smirking at him. He flushed, as if she’d said something so inappropriate, and then he quickly moved down the bar to where Rich sat.

Clover didn’t want to hear about Jesse. Jesse and Raven had never gotten along. The two hated one another. They acted as if they were cats and dogs, forced together in a small space, fighting over the same tiny rations. Luckily, Jesse learned to keep his mouth shut; Raven, however, did not. Clover drummed her fingertips along the edge of the bar, but she didn’t say anything, not at first. The subject changed to the music and she couldn’t help but crack a smile. She’d missed Raven, despite the rude comment, and she refused to deny the fact. “It’s Thelonious Monk night, didn’t you know?” Clo mocked Rich then. The man must have heard because Clover glanced in his direction and he looked like he was gritting his teeth. She smiled and wiggled her fingers at him. He turned away from her. “It’s just not my cup of tea. I’d rather have rock music. I’d even settle for electronica. It could be worse. Could be country music,” Clo said, turning her full attention back to her childe.

“I have great taste in men. Where’s your husband these nights?” She pretended to look innocent as she stared at her childe, knowing that her remark could either ignite the flames or ignite some form of laughter. Having been insulted, Clo didn’t really care what reaction she’d earned. “To be honest,” Clo continued, "I would say that you missed the state of emergency, the assault on the Longslade facility, the possibility for a cure.” Her voice was low, knowing well that Rich was listening to her speak -- the guy really couldn’t take a hint, let alone a giant verbal, and physical, cue to leave. “You missed a lot with me.” And even as she said the words, she felt a pang of sadness. She hated when people seemed to drift away from her, as if she were the one to incite such desires. Maybe Jesse wasn’t the only one with the ability to part a crowd, to drive people further away from him. “I missed you,” she said, leaving it at that.

Raven perked a brow at the soldier's words before she simply chuckled and relaxed back against the bar with the playful smirk still in place. The vampire had been called much worse than ma’am and it was rather humorous to the woman that he would try and insult her with such a title. Granted it was the first time that someone had called her that, but she still couldn’t class it as an insult. More like a pathetic attempt at getting a rise and from a pathetic human no less. Her nose scrunched up as she wondered just as to what the man’s blood tasted like, but then realised that she might not want to know either, but the idea itself was rather tempting all the same. Had she had soldier’s blood before? The vampire didn’t think so. At least, not yet anyway. At that thought she made a mental note to keep an eye on that one, maybe she might snack on him at a later date.

As Clover said that Raven had missed a lot with her sire, the vampire sighed and turned towards the bar. ”I would have missed a lot regardless,” She said softly as she placed the empty glass upon the bar and tapped two fingers next to it, a gesture that said to refill. Raven knew that Clover hated it when she pointed out things about Jesse, or even mention the man. Clover always had and she figured that if it ever boiled down to it, that Clover would choose Jesse over her. Especially if the past was anything to go by. If Raven looked, she always wondered as to whether someone would notice her missing and go looking. No one did. Not even a text. ”As for me. No boy toy of my own. I’m too busy restraining the urge to kill people. I’m trying to be reformed, to make the situation here in Harper Rock go more smoothly for some people.”

Selfless is what some people would call that, but for those who figured that they knew the woman to a T, called her selfish. Selfish for wanting to stay in the Shadow Realm, selfish for not trusting people too lightly and selfish for even disappearing in the first place. Yep, Raven always figured that she would always be doing something wrong by someone. It was the usual pattern that she had come to expect. As the bartender cautiously filled her glass, the vampire flashed her fangs at him which made him stumble back and scurry off to serve other customers. A soft chuckle parted her lips before she returned to view Clover.

She had missed her sire as well, but other than her sire, she often pondered as to the reason for her return. Why was she here? It’s not like she did have a significant other waiting for her. The woman didn’t even really have a family and the people that did call her a friend, didn’t even really give one thought to her disappearance. A shake of her head was given before she downed the glass in front of her and tapped the bar once again. ”Look, I’m sorry Clover if you missed me, but it seems as if things were going smoothly without me. In fact, I’m pretty sure, that no one, apart from you even spared one thought to my disappearance. So I guess, what I’m saying is that, if you weren’t here, I probably wouldn’t even be here right now.”

Indeed, the main reason for her return was to check up on Clover, maybe stir the Fforde pot for a few and then probably pull another disappearing act. After all, what purpose would Raven serve by even remaining within Harper Rock? A question that she kept asking herself every night. ”But, I’m here now, so why don’t you fill me in. I have all night and apart from talking with you, I have nothing better to do except drink.” Drink and wish that it had any real effect on me at all, Raven finished off within her own thoughts as brown eyes steadily watched Clover.

Again, Raven’s words had a way of stabbing Clover in the side, digging deeper and deeper until they eventually punctured one of her lungs. It hurt. And maybe they’d always find a way of hurting her. But the possibility didn’t mean that Clover loved her -- yes, loved her -- any less. Her second childe had always held a very important position in her heart. Nothing changed the fact. Even when Jesse disliked Raven. Even when Raven disliked Jesse. To hear that her childe was so alone, that Raven had basically given in and accepted the loneliness, reminded her a lot of herself. Clo had been there, done that. She’d been that way before Jesse. It’d been a dark time, a very dark time. She’d had no reason to abide by the masquerade, no reason to exist, and she’d been incredibly heartless. She’d hated her sire and almost everyone in his little “family” unit. There had only been Victor and Kenlie. They were exceptions. The only exceptions.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Clover said, knowing well that she didn’t need to address the comment at all. But she felt the need to -- no, she wanted to -- address her childe’s words. “And if you’re looking for a boy toy, there’s one sitting two seats down. Rich is really on the lookout for a winner.” She grinned and pulled back a little in her seat, giving Raven a clear glimpse of the grumpy looking soldier. He really looked childish with the way he pouted, his eyes on his mug of beer. She tried hard to lighten the mood, but she had no idea if she succeeded or not. Raven wanted caught up on the city’s advancements, but Clover didn’t know if she wanted to go in depth or not. Not much had really happened. The so-called cure, which had been captured by an undisclosed party; the soldiers, which had appeared after the ambush on the facility reached the attention of the government. Not much had really happened.

Sitting on the barstool, Clo crossed one leg over the other. The music dropped into the background, as if knowing that she meant to bring up a serious topic. The bartender seemed busy with other patrons, so she took that time to speak. “There was supposedly a cure for vampirism, one which was located at a government facility found along the water, not too far from Circle, actually. Everyone wanted the cure, whatever the reason for obtaining it, so you can imagine the number of people storming the facility. No one knew if the cure would work though. It’s gone, whether it works or not. Someone got the cure. I haven’t heard about it since.” Clo shifted on her seat. “Some Fforde went to the facility. Personally, I thought, I wondered, whether it would work.” She said all she needed to say then. She wanted the cure for herself, to see if it actually worked, to see if she could go back to her human life and try that avenue all over again.

“Imagine what that cure could have done,” she sighed. She turned, looking over her shoulder at the rest of the club’s inhabitants. People were dancing, enjoying cocktails, and listening to the music. They looked oblivious. Offhand, Clo couldn’t notice any other vampires in the club, but there was always the possibility. “You don’t understand.” Clo stopped and began to chew at the inside of her lower lip. When she got up the courage to continue, she ceased her nervous behavior. “I really wanted that cure. I could have,” she stopped, unable to continue. Raven must have understood then. Despite her behavior, Clo wanted another chance at humanity. She remembered the conversation she’d had with Jesse, the conversation which had inevitable dissolved into a disagreement, but a conversation all the same. What if they’d had the opportunity?

Clover hailed the bartender and motioned to her childe’s scotch. It took a moment for the meaning to dawn on the man, but it did. He grabbed a tumbler and poured a bit of scotch into the glass. Clo didn’t have the ability to drink, but she enjoyed the feel of the glass in her hands. When the bartender disappeared, Clo just stared down at the amber liquid. “That’s half of it, at least.”

The woman chuckled as brown eyes slid over to the grumpy soldier who had apparently liked the music that was playing but not anymore. Ah soldiers, they might be some-what expendable. So if one went missing, of course a vampire would be blamed, but who was to say that the vampire wasn’t defending themselves against a soldier and happened to just kill them in the process? Ah, a thought provoking process. Maybe she could kill a soldier and get away with it, but it probably wouldn’t look good for the vampiric society as a whole and she bit her bottom lip before her attention returned to Clover.

Sharp eyes focused upon every little detail of her sire, especially the other woman’s body language. There was something that laid underneath her sire’s words. A second meaning to them and her brow furrowed as she quietly listened. Sometimes being quiet was all that the woman had to offer, because everyone knew that a lot of the time, Raven speaking only really agitated or hurt someone in the process. So simply offering an ear that would listen, is all that she could really do. When Clover looked out at the people after mentioning the cure, Raven wondered if her sire had wanted the cure for herself. Did Clover want to be human again? She felt an ache within her chest at the thought, but did not show it upon her face.

Everyone always left her eventually, why not her sire? Would Raven have still felt the need to protect Clover after she had become human or would their connection be severed? Would Raven be completely severed from the Fforde line if that had happened? Not that she really cared much for the rest of Fforde, because she only really cared about Clover. So what would happen if Clover ever did become human again? The very thought had the woman reaching out to pick up her scotch glass in silence and she downed the entire thing as if it was nothing but a simple shot. The very thought of Clover being human, made her mind spin just a bit and she instantly moved to pull out her cigarette case from the pocket of her coat.

Tugging one free, she sat the case upon the bar and with quick and easy movements, she lit it and took a long drag from it. The woman had no real words to say. What could she say? Could she express her concerns? No, she couldn’t, for that would be selfish of her. Her sire meant a great deal to her and if it meant that for Clover to be happy that she had to be human, than Raven would just have to let that happen or find the cure for her. If there was one then there had to be another, scientists always took notes on their experimental things, right? The vampire chewed upon that thought for a moment before she realised that Clover had gone silent.

”Hmm, well it seems as if being human is rather important to you. Maybe there is some left-over research. Something that may be able to replicate the so called cure. I’m not interested in it, because you are right, I don’t understand, but if it will make you happy that’s all that matters to me.” Raven said as she leaned an arm against the bar top and took a drag as her while brown eyes looked passed Clover to watch the soldier continue to glare at her from down the bar. She just had that effect on people, it was a constant occurring event. People just loved to hate her and she smirked at him before returning her attention to Clover.

The cigarette returned to her lips and rested there as the orange glow gave off a slight signature heat, a heat that gently caressed her characteristically cold, red painted lips. ”You can always find something if you look for it. Are there any rumours as to who managed to get their grubby hands on it? Or if it actually worked? Does anyone know as to who worked on it, cause I’ll torture them for the ingredients to make it work for you.” Raven said as she tapped two fingers next to her empty scotch glass and glanced sideways to her sire.

How thoughtless of her. How very selfish of her. Clo stared at the scotch in her glass because she couldn’t bear to raise her eyes and see her childe’s face. She had so many reasons to cling to immortality, and yet her mind wandered, again and again, to the idea of a human life. She craved some semblance of normality, but only when it included humanity. She had a family, yet she seemed so quick to cast them all aside. She had hobbies, yet they paled in comparison to the hobbies she dreamt of when she imagined a human life. Dreams. They were nothing but dreams. Until the cure. And, somehow, the cure had slipped through all of their fingers, or maybe just her own. She couldn’t answer Raven’s questions. She couldn’t respond to Raven’s statements. But she felt an overwhelming sense of pride. Despite Raven’s disinterest, despite Raven’s predatory ways, the woman still offered to help. They had no yellow brick road to follow; they had no paper, or electronic, trail to discover. They started from zero, and all of the other numbers had yet to reveal themselves.

“There’s nothing,” Clo sighed, having found her voice. “No rumors. No gossip. I’d assume that the cure was in mid to late stages, with the way the government reacted. There’s no telling the number of guinea pigs they used. One cured. One thousand cured. None cured.” The words physically hurt to say, for she was admitting that she lacked pertinent information. Slowly, carefully, Clover nudged her untouched glass toward Raven. The scotch shook and shimmered. She didn’t know how to say what she wanted to say, so she let that action take up time and space. While focused on the glass, yet again, Clo tried to put the words together into proper sentences. Something told her to take things slow, as slow as she had when she nudged the glass toward her childe. The cure meant nothing, despite the fact that it meant everything. Was it possible to cure her, to rid her of so much negativity? Was it possible to pick up where she left off? Would she have to start all over again, like a young animal just learning how to stand, how to walk, how to run?

“It doesn’t matter,” she finally said. “I wouldn’t want to lose what I have right now over a possibility at a human life. The cure means everything, and yet it means nothing. It’s too late.” A pause. A frown. A shrug of her shoulders. “It’s too late.”

If she ever had the choice to take the cure or to continue life as a vampire, she knew the outcome. She wouldn’t take the cure unless Jesse took the cure. They were forever, weren’t they? One couldn’t go on without the other. That’s how it worked. Or maybe marriage worked in that they would simply support one another, no matter what. Clo couldn’t think straight. She regretted broaching the topic at all. “It’s easy to fall in love with dreams, but dreams rarely have a place in reality. I’m not going to wake up human and go waltzing back into my old life. My life is here. Now. With you. With Fforde. I guess I just can’t explain it right,” she said, a short laugh following.

She had everything. It was stupid of her to think that she needed the cure to round things out, to top her off. Every now and then, she had to remind herself. No, she didn’t want the cure. No, she didn’t want to be human again. She loved. She was loved. She had no reason to want more, except that she was greedy, except that the unknown tempted her. What if she had a chance at the life she and Jesse had discussed? They were dreams. They were nothing more. They needed nothing more. “This place is a shithole,” Clo suddenly said, the music finally returning and grating on her nerves.