Author's Note: So yes, in typical Sue fashion this Sue has a pretty horrific past. However these are not subjects I'd write about lightly (having personal experience both dating abusive junkie rock musicians, and working as a stripper) and despite Violet being an absolute Sue, I've attempted to at least write about these fairly realistically (a lot of strip clubs are still mafia run, and can be scary places to work)

He found me on the street. It'd been a bad night, Donny'd roughed me up worse than usual. I didn't want to know how I looked, that too short skirt riding up and that too skimpy top torn. I was probably bruised all over, my long raven hair a mess. It'd broken one of the heels on my shoes, a stiletto... I don't know where it went. He carried me inside, at first I thought he was my mother. God I miss her, she died a long time ago, and my dad well he kind of lost it after that. An abusive junkie asshole of a rock musician boyfriend later, well here I was, bruised and bloody in the street. I'd wondered "oh god, am I going to die here? I wondered, 'Am I going to be a dead hooker in chinatown? I'm smarter than that, I'm better than that... or at least I hope on some level I'm less painfully cliche than that.'

I looked up into the face of my savior, long glossy black hair, mismatched eyes. He looked like an angel. Honestly he was so pretty I thought he was a woman at first, which was probably a good thing, in my line of work you really don't let strange men carry you anywhere. Still, I cuddled against him, groggily placing my arms around his neck.

He was delicate, but I perked up when I didn't feel boobs. No telling what sort of sicko'd picked me up. "Who are you?" I asked, my normally sweet voice hoarse from all the sobbing I'd done the previous night.

"Just call me D," he replied. I was too weak to struggle, or believe me I would have. He took me inside and took me to the bathroom "Can you clean yourself up or are you too weak?: he asked, I wasn't sure what he was up to but the fact that he'd asked me that made me feel better. I licked my lips. "I can try to do it myself," I said, trying and failing to stand up. I gave him a weak smile, he seemed to be a decent person. I didn't meet those often. "guess I'm pretty banged up," I said softly. He nodded.

"I suppose I'll have to bathe you," he said, hands gentle as he stripped off my torn and bloodied clothing. I let him. I was too weak to do anything about it anyway, and he was being... so sweet. He filled the bath for me, and gently lifted me in.

"Hmm, a pretty thing, soft milky skin, and that figure, very nice," he purred. I don't know why his gaze on me didn't make my skin crawl. He was so gentle cleaning my cuts, washing dirt from my skin. He washed out my hair, noting the length (just past the top of my hips) and texture, commenting on how not many girls wore their hair so long anymore. He sounded almost wistful.

"Based on your attire... and the bruises, I would expect that you're... a working girl?" he said.

I flushed. "just a stripper," I croaked.

I hated what I did, but with Yvonne, my ex boyfriend, there'd been nothing else I could do that would support us both and his drug habit. Yvonne had been so pretty, long blonde hair, playing bass in a school girl outfit, I couldn't believe it the first time he smacked me, came home drunk and slapped me hard across the face for I don't even remember what. He hit me so many times, I lost track long ago of what each one was for... and all of it from the last guy on earth you'd ever expect to hit a girl. I didn't hate stripping because I had hangups regarding nudity, or sex, but I hated the industry, and the way people treat you in it, like you're dirty, or worse a dirty magazine that moves when you tell it to. It doesn't have to be dehumanizing, but society makes it that way, and Donny made it worse.

I have always had a weakness for pretty men, the mixture of masculine and feminine, strength of body, combine with feminine allure... it's intoxicating... and maybe I'm a bit of a masochist. Not the way Yvonne did it, certainly not the way Donny does it... but I'm submissive, it's against my nature to be in control in a relationship. Maybe that's my problem. Honestly I don't know, but I never realized how hard it was to leave someone who beat you before Yvonne.

But that's really not the point.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Violet," I answered, voice soft.

"Hmm, a pretty name, you don't smell... like one of them," he said looking me over.

"One of what?"

"A human," he said, speaking the word human in utter distaste.

And that was the point where I decided I needed to not be there anymore, because clearly the man was insane, maybe not violently insane, but clearly insane, and I'd been around enough crazy in my life to know that... being stuck with a crazy guy who apparently thought I was pretty was not a good place for me to be. Unfortunately for me, I was still weak from the beating, and getting out of the tub without promptly falling flat on my face was a distant hope at best.

"Hmm, of course if you aren't... one of them... that raises the question... what are you, my dear?"

Well clearly human wasn't a suitable answer. "I'm not sure?" was all I could come up with. At the time, that terrified me, of course. He helped me get clean, washing the grime of the street from my skin with sweet floral smelling soap.

"I'll see what I can do about your clothes," he said thoughtfully, "though you'd broken the heel off one of your shoes, and I must say I don't think such attire is appropriate for anyone. let alone a young lady to go out of doors in."

A bit later I was wrapped in a soft silk robe, and being served tea and cakes while he examined me, as if he was trying to determine something. We ate together, my strength was back a bit. "It seems you're doing a little better," he said, as a young man with long silky white hair, dressed in tight blue jeans and a leather jacket. "Oh... what have we here, Count?" he said, walking over and lounging across the back of the sofa.

"I found it in the street," he said, "it's not human, though it is definitely female."

"Well are we keeping it?" said the white haired man.

I didn't much like being called an it, and I had to wonder if they were both mad or if the new comer was humoring my odd rescuer,

D licked his lips, "I think so," he said, "its name is Violet."

"I'm a she not an it," I interrupted, "and would you mind not talking about me like I'm not here?"

D chuckled. "I apologize, you see this is a pet shop," he said, "and I'm used to taking care of animals, taking care of you of course is odd as you're..."

"Human."

"No, but you talk," he said, stroking my hair, "isn't her hair pretty, Angelo?" he added smiling. The white haired man regarded me, and nodded.

"Mhm, it'd look better with a fringe and maybe side locks," he said thoughtfully, "does she mind being kept?"

D shrugged. "Well I found her beaten in the street," he said looking down at me, "so I don't think she has anywhere better to go."

Angelo nodded, and my brows knit. "Uh," was all I said. Well despite D seeming a little... weird, he was gentle... kind, certainlybetter than Donny, and my crappy apartment a few blocks over, and the tea and pastries were amazing, but I felt guilty accepting their hospitality.

"No, no, really," I said, "you don't have to take care of me. I don't want to be a burden."

D let out a sweet musical laugh. "I assure you, you will not be burdensome, you are something quite special," he said, "and of course you can help around the shop."

I nodded, this was fast. "I can cook," I said, which I could. I particularly enjoy baking, having a bit of a sweet tooth.

D's face instantly lit up. "Can you bake?"

I nodded, "it's my favorite thing, I took some courses in French pastry and cake decorating," I added. He put a long nailed hand to his lips as those beautiful mismatched eyes registered intense excitement.

A moment later he disappeared for a moment returning with a vast stack of recipes.

"Can you make these?" he said dumping them into my lap.

"I- uh..." I said, staring in consternation at the mass of papers, picking up one or two, chocolate raspberry torte, key lime bars, white chocolate apricot trifle. I nodded. "I can make these," I said, still more than a little overwhelmed. Count D smiled and clapped, seemingly overjoyed, while Angelo wandered off.

"He was right about the bangs," he said tilting his head to the side, "a hime cut would suit you."

I shrugged. "I guess," I said, taking another bite of cake, "so you're... a count."

"Well that's my grandfather really," he said, waving his hand dismissively, "I'm watching the pet shop until he comes back."

"I see," I said, though I didn't, not really, not properly.

He smiled enigmatically.

"Do you feel a bit better now?" he asked, and I nodded. The fact that I was going along with this was... puzzling to say the least, at the time it seemed perfectly natural... perfectly logical, but really deciding to stay with a strange man who ran a pet shop, told me I wasn't human and asked me to cook him sweets seems... well insane by any normal standards. The only explanation I can think of is there must have been something in the incense that scented every corner of the lavish shop... or of course there was the fact that I probably had a bit of a head injury and wasn't fully sane.

"Can you walk yet?" he asked. I stood, finding my balance.

"Mhm," I said.

"Good, I shall show you to your quarters," he said, "we'll get you dressed and do something with your hair," he added thoughtfully, "it will tangle too easily if we leave it down."