Notes: So... alphabet themes based off Thomas and Justine. Been planning to do something on them for a while now. Rated T, surprisingly. And how concreteled to it's drabble is a complete and utter mystery. Or at least insanely convoluted. Apologies for any problems with the tenses.

Anachronistic

It isn't that she thinks she has grown ugly, by any means; but she's aware that age is catching up with her. When she looks in the mirror, she seems more self-assured, much more confident than she was ten years ago.

Thomas, on the other hand, looks the same as he did back when she was sixteen. Down to the last smug smirk and perfectly toned muscle.

"Justine," he asks, appearing behind her, his skin barely touching her dress, "What's wrong?"

She opens her mouth, starts to say nothing, then remembers that this is Thomas.

"Just thinking," She turns around and places a gloved hand on his bare chest, "I'm growing old. And you're not."

He goes still, the way he does whenever something he's heard has just disturbed him, then wraps his hands around her waist.

"From the way things are, you'll probably end up outliving me anyway," he points out, making her smile back up at him.

Beguiling

He watches from the sidelines.

If whatever time he has left after work (feeding) isn't occupied by him running around trying to cover his little brother's smart-mouthed ass or upgrading on his armoury, he sometimes places himself around one of the family houses. The guards are ordinary humans, for the most part, and easy to bypass. Then he hunts out his sister at whatever game she's playing at the moment, and watches one messed up half of his family and the woman he loves.

He knows Lara, at least, knows that he's there. And he knows that she lets him stay mostly because the way he moons over Justine amuses her. Maybe a little because she feels sorry for her younger brother, but it's mostly amusement.

He's not sure if Justine knows. She acts like she doesn't, standing around Lara like the good little secretary she pretends to be. He's fairly sure Lara knows Justine's acting, but that she lets her stay because that gives her astounding leverage over him. Or possibly because she was planning on feeding her false information. Not that it was impossible for her to do the same to Lara, except for it putting her into more danger than what his interest could get her out of…

He sighs and shakes his head before the dynamics of White Court politics occupy it again, and settles for simply watching her move around with that vapid half-smile on her face.

Concrete

She wakes up like she has for the past few months. Her mind doesn't immediately go into it's hormone-induced state of hysteria or into the sluggish aftermath of the drugs she uses to replace it. She feels almost normal.

He's asleep next to her, eyes closed and breathing even. It's one of the few days where she's awake before he is, and she takes some time to just admire him. She could spend most of her time just doing that.

She knows, of course, especially now that her brain is working in some semblance of normalcy. There are unseen forces at work here, and she's mostly some sort of everlasting food source. It annoys her, to an extent, but is nothing compared to the relief she feels at having her mind returned back to her. Thinking that way, it was practically a form of symbiosis.

What scares her now is how she looks forward to these few moments with him, where he isn't predator and she isn't prey; and they're both mostly two people enjoying each other's company. How her feelings for a man –a creature- who's feeding on her is more affection than anything else. She could understand gratitude, but affection makes no sense.

Thomas turns his head and presses his lips onto her hand, his eyes still closed.

Her breath hitches in her throat for a moment, as fondness threatens to overwhelm her again.

Dynamics

"And that?"

"Madrigal," he tells her under his breath, secure only because Mad wouldn't bother wasting his efforts to see what his idiot cousin was saying to his meal, "Father's brother's son. He… consorts with Skavis."

"You have a big family," she remarks, her hand firmly gripping his.

Thomas doesn't bother to hide his snort. It makes her look at him quizzically.

"Family is probably not the best way to describe the Raiths," he mutters into her ear managing to sneak in a kiss at the same time, "A pack of murdering jackals, on the other hand-"

"Is that why you act like that?"

"What?" He has a feeling something is going to collapse over this conversation.

Her gaze is disconcertingly direct, "Like you're some sort of brainless playboy, Thomas. Except with Lara, for some reason."

He stares at her for long moments, every line in his body frozen.

"I'm not stupid either," she reminds him gently.

Erudite

"I like him," she says, smiling. "He's funny."

Thomas rolls his eyes.

"He needs an image consultant," he says, glancing back at the wizard in the vampire costume, "That hair, and the three-day beard. It's positively tragic."

She frowns at him, because there are inflections in his tone which have no business being there. She can almost sense a kind of fond exasperation, like the one he gets when he's talking about Inari and her recent obsession with health food.

"I thought you didn't know him."

"I don't," he replies easily, "I've heard of him, though. Strong wizard. White Council. Tendency to mouth people off."

She waits. He doesn't say anything more, but the way he's gone still assures her he's not happy with the situation.

"More politics?" she wonders, sotto voce.

He sighs.

"You're better off not knowing, Justine. Believe me."

Framed

"She's beautiful."

He looks behind him, and sees the doe he picked up from Zero last night. She's like any other bright-eyed young thing he's had over the ages. Wide-eyed and flushed with desire, staring at him in a way which practically begged him to go over and-

He snaps his head back, ignoring his hunger. He doesn't, usually, but feeding in front of his mother's portrait seems like sacrilege, somehow. Even if the girl had been so completely full of life-

"Who is she?" the doe asks, and he notices that she seems a lot more… stable than she did last night.

He shrugs, and turns back to her again with a brilliant smile which stays frozen as soon as he looks into her eyes. The fluttering, lascivious little thing from last night has been replaced by inquisitive eyes and a direct stare. Although she does blush when she meets his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't-"

"It's all right," he grins at her reassuringly, wondering how long he'd want to keep her now that she wasn't quite so enthusiastic.

"She doesn't look much like you, except around the eyes. Something in the face, maybe," the doe says, tearing his gaze away from his eyes and onto the picture, "I guess you take after your father."

He freezes again.

"Or am I wrong?" the doe wonders, "I just assumed that-"

"You know," he has to search his memory briefly for the name, "Justine. It's nearly noon. You must be hungry."

It's easy enough for him to lead her away from the gallery; girls always had a problem denying him anything, but she frowned a little while she allowed him to do so.