Leaves had just finished loading the last bit of Clara's unmentionables into the dryer. The Bacchante watched him using reflections and her Vampiric Senses. She was wearing short-shorts and a heavy brown wool cardigan two sizes too big over bare flesh. She was well-fed. Heck, she'd fed last night. So why were her eyes focused on Leaves' supple neck and her ears tuned to every slight beat of his sweet heart? I'm torturing myself. She dropped the thought. Introspection didn't serve her kind well. "Hey, Clara, it's getting a little late...I, uh, forgot to bring my toothbrush, but--"
She cut him off. "Sorry, my old man wants me to read these." A quick gesture to the unsorted mountain of bills, deeds, and notes dominating her sleek Ikea work desk. "Making sure the lawyer isn't screwing us. Maybe next time?" Leaves was already nodding when she apologized and Clara's heart broke a little. Leaves freely gave a deep kiss and was out the door. Clara was waving with one hand; her other was clenched into a fist so tight drops of Vitae started to poke out of the skin. It was only 10 and Clara was already regretting letting Leaves go for the night. She fiddled with her smartphone and the Bluetooth speaker at her desk started to fill her basement apartment with the beat of a song. Then she was browsing her contact list, partially entertaining a Lick. Davis' saved number came into focus and, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a promissory note dated December 8, 1840. She shot him a quick text and hit send before going back to browsing her contact list for Licks. After two minutes she was already moving on to Instagram for sneaker photos.