"Hey, Worth, you here? What'm I talking about, you're always here!"

It's safe to say that I'm quite used to Hanna's random intrusions, and well, this was no exception. I eyed him up from across the room between my shoes perched upon my desk with a quirked eyebrow. The only reason Hanna usually came 'round was because he'd sustained some cuts and bruises from some paranormal beasty, but from what I could tell he was relatively unharmed. The cute (heh, not.) little bundle of hipster joy paraded his way through my office to stand in front of me, looking down expectantly. When I said nothing, he slammed his hands palm down onto my desk and gave me that Hanna-brand grin that everyone so desperately loves. 'cept me. I don't love nothin'. Shits for pansies.

"Nyah, what's up, Doc?"

He said it with that accent that only suited Bugs Bunny, and I couldn't help but sigh and roll my eyes to the heavens above. Predictably, Hanna stood there giggling at his own joke like the bubbly moron he was, and I found my eyes twirling to the ceiling again. I kicked my feet off the desk, deciding it was time to get down to business. The sooner I got this little hipster outta my office, the better. Not that I was busy or anything. Just like my solitude is all.

"What'ya want, twerp? You don't look mortally wounded…" You never knew with Hanna, though. I leaned forward over my desk to get a better look at this accident-prone dweeb that was somehow still alive after all his crazy run-ins. Am I being harsh, calling him a dweeb 'n all that? Possibly. He's a great kid 'n all, he's just a little hard to handle in large doses. I guess it doesn't help that I don't really like people much in the first place. As expected, he just laughed off my suspicions and waved his hands in front of himself defensively. So I sat back in my chair.

"No, no. 'm not here on uh, …'health' business." Hanna emphasized the health bit with his fingers, and my eyes were attracted to the ceiling like a moth to the light. "Conrad sent me!"

At this, I frowned. What'd that jerk-off want that he couldn't come to see me about on his own? I allowed my lips to swivel my cigarette around in my mouth as I tried to mull over this new Confag development. But I don't have much patience for those things types of things, so I decided to talk it out.

"Oh yea? What's the little artfag want?" Hanna opened his mouth to respond, but God all mighty I could not talk to him while he was practically jumping up and down on his feet. Friggin' hyper-active gingers. "Siddown, kid. All your ups 'n downs are giving me a headache."

"Gnee, sorry." Hanna flashed an apologetic grin my way before looking around the office for something remotely sitonable. Is that a word? Well it is now. Chalk it into the 'Doc Worth' Dictionary for future reference. Hanna finally found something suitable to perch his skinny ass on, and dragged it loudly across the floor, emitting loud screeches as he went. I could feel my eye twitch (something Hanna politely ignored) from the screeching as it came to a rest straight before me, and Hanna carried on without missing a beat. "SO, yea; Connie sent me to pick up some blood. He's got the munchies, see. I don't remember what type he asked for, though. I thiiiiiink it might've been A. Or Z. Is Z a blood type? It should be; it's a highly underused-"

"Ok, Hanna, please, shut the fuck up." I loved the kid. Hated the rambles. He took it all in stride though. Hang around me long enough, you'll know I don't mean half the tough shit I say. So he sat back patiently on that…thing (what the fuck is that? Why haven't I seen that before?) with an eager grin stretched across his face. Like he was proud to be that vampire's blood runner. No, wait, that's just the look he always wears when he's not paying attention to his face. Back to the matter at hand.

"Why can't Batboy come get it himself?" I like to chew on things when I think. Usually it's my cig butt. I bit down on it lightly as I tried to work out reasons why Confag wouldn't wanna drop by himself, and I think I gave a sadistic grin when I figured it out. Seeing as how I can't see my face, it's hard to tell at times. Huh. I think I might ramble as much as Hanna. That's a problem. "He ain't afraid of the big bad Doctor now, is he?"

Uh-oh. Hanna's giving me that nervous grin-smile thing he throws out when he doesn't want me to know something. Could I have really pissed off that sorry excuse for a vampire so much that he'd refused to come by and see the great Doc Worth altogether? Knowing me, it was a very definite possibility.

"Shit, he is, ain't he?" I couldn't help it; I laughed.

Hanna rubbed the back of his neck as he stared more intently than one should at my floor, which meant there was more to the story. Jesus, I hate it when things are more complicated than they seem.

"Err, not exactly. He's more uh, more…hmm…"

"More what?" If there's one thing I hate more than Hanna's pointless rambles, it's Hanna beating around the metaphorical bush.

"Oh, um. Um. Well uh, he saysssssss…"

"Hanna. If you don't spit it out right now, I swear ta gawd someone is going to get cut, and it ain't gonna be me." That'd be fun, though. I liked holding knives to myself. But this isn't about my unethical pleasures, so I hope my glare was effective enough in getting him to talk.

"Hesayshe'." Yea. It worked. Too bad I didn't understand a word of that jumbled shit.

Since I began to deal with Hanna, I had become prone to headaches, which I guess shouldn't really be surprising since he's hard to deal with. All 'I'm fine when I'm really not!' 'And 'Hey guys check out this awesome twig that I found that has no real value!'. Too bad for him I felt one brewing up now. I can be a little…bitchy when my head pounds due to that idiot P.A's incessant rambling.

"Ok. Hanna. One fucking word at a time, please."

He twitched his lips and fiddled around with his hands. I wonder what's so appealing about my flooring that he has to stare at it so intently. Curious, I peak around my desk to stare at the spot that seems to have engrossed his attention. Nothing but a weird splotch. I raise my eyebrow at him as I resume my previous position, and he takes a deep breath, preparing to take the verbal plunge into an explanation.

"Connie says that uh, since you guys had sex that one time thaaaaat he doesn't feel comfortable around you anymore?"

Whoooooah. Back up.

"When the fuck did we have sex?"

I am absolutely flabbergasted, and I am not one to easily be flabbergasted. You think if I'd have had sex with that non-sparkly vampire douche I'd have remembered it. And, wait. What the fuck? I wouldn't touch that dick with a ten-foot pole, let alone with my penis.

"Er, you don't remember…?"

"Obviously not." I was borderline pissed as fuck. I guess it showed, 'cause Hanna was steadily shrinking back away from me. "What the hell's he talking about?"

"Uhh, remember when me and Buffalo Bill solved that case with the pixies, anddddd we went to the Rabbit Hole to celebrate 'cause it was our first case we'd completed without any drastic fuck-ups? Yea, well, um. I don't really knowwww what happened; you'd have to ask Conrad, buttttt he says that you had had too much to drink and-"

Hold up. I threw up my hand to halt his explanation as I tried to get my brain to kick into gear and find those memories of said event that had apparently been swallowed by alcohol. Hanna shut up immediately, recognizing that this was serious business as I propped my elbows up onto my desk to work at my forehead; helped me think. Now that Hanna mentioned it, I had no recollection of the past couple days (due to binge drinking), and the unsettling fear that I may or may not have played around with Confag during those blackouts was disturbing. My stomach was churning as the sick realization finally settled in. Fuck. Fuck.

"Oh, shit."

"Yeaaaaa…."

A/N: Ok. So. Um. I HAVE NO EXPLANATION FOR THIS AND I APOLOGIZE DEARLY. Sadly, this will be continued. Don't kill me.