Chapter Seven

"You wake up too early" Poppy peeped open one of her eyes to look at Victor, he was propped up against the headboard of her bed staring out of the little window. It couldn't have been more than six am,

"I don't like sleep…I don't need it" He said gruffly, looking out of the corner of his eyes he watched Poppy sit up on her calves and sleepily rub her head. Messily her hair fell out of the loose bobble she'd contained it in. Victor closed his eyes when her cool hand reached out and touched his furred cheek, Poppy leant in to him and took his bottom lip between her teeth playfully pressuring down on the skin. Before Poppy moved back Victor changed the tables so his own fangs gripped her own lip, leaning in more she closed the distance and moulded her lips with his.

When she leant back she sighed, casting a glare around the room before falling heavily back onto the mattress, making it squeak the noisy springs.

"I can't breathe in this room" Said Poppy, holding her hands up to cover her eyes. She wriggled from the covers, walked around the bed, and leaning over the other side gave Victor another kiss before disappearing into the bathroom.

The formality of the room Poppy lived in was draining; being feral, or the type of feral she was meant being free and full of life, creative. The feeling when she walked into her accommodation immediately took the vitality out of her eyes, only when Creed was there did they sparkle again.

Even the standard issue shampoo, in clear, plain labelled bottles gave Poppy the caged feeling; as though she were a hamster, a cheap birthday present to Stryker, the acne ridden child.

Steam framed her as Poppy opened the door back into the room and saw Victor was no longer in the position against the headboard, but again a familiar unexpected routine bang of the door introduced him. He had a guest with him, one of the younger, naïve trigger happy soldiers.

"We have company?" Poppy asked, tipping her head to one side and using the pristine white towel she held to vigorously brush away excess moisture in her hair.

"No…Well…temporarily, tell him whatever you want and he'll get it for you. A healthy bonus of this team" He explained, pushing the man forward a little so he could sit on the edge hard seat by the desk.

Poppy paused and thought over this for a few minutes, the finger she placed over her lips tapped on the skin methodically. She took the finger off to speak, "Anything I want?" – Victor and the unnamed man nodded in unison – "No matter what it is?" – Another nod from the man, but Victor cut in saying that Poppy had to choose things 'within reason'.

"I'm gonna need a pen and paper" said Poppy with a smile, accepting the artefacts which were handed to her from the solider. Gladly she took them but as she looked at the thinly ruled paper, Poppy said,

"You may want to go and grab a coffee, this could take a while"

Poppy thought the curt bow he gave before leaving was a little dramatic but, happy with Victor's revelation she bounced over to him and sat on his lap. Creed's hands kneaded her skin comfortingly, the occasional nail picking into her skin as he watched Poppy curl out clearly written objects she wanted.

Greed is considered a sin, yet Poppy's hand ached by the time her list was completed. It was compensation for the fact she was here, Victor was a nice benefit to the job, but if emptying Stryker's pockets made her stay here more comfortable, why shouldn't Poppy have a few home comforts.

Paul, that was the young soldier's name Poppy found out, didn't extend his companionship with her and Victor any longer than he needed to. So when the items Poppy asked for arrived and piled up against the section of space in front of the back, dry wall, he speedily left.

Victor didn't help; instead he led lazily on her bed and watched her with a smirk as she rummaged around the different bags, her face lighting up every time she pulled even the smallest thing out. With each gasp of reaction then speedy placement of each thing, Victor found himself finding Poppy more and more amusingly intriguing.

Finally, after scrunching the plastic bags up noisily and shoving them under the bed, Poppy popped her hip and leant back to admire her work.

On the desk, the familiar, ugly desk was colour. The right hand side was completely food dedicated; bags of crimson red Skittles lined up neatly, cobalt blue bags of M&M's, three bags of peanuts – yogurt covered, chocolate covered and plain – fizzy sweets, sour sweets, chewy sweets and shelf topping, savoury, cheese covered crisps. Next to them were two, thick, yellow leaf books with famous titles; Taming of the Shrew and Wuthering Heights A stack of magazines; each covering person smiling widely under the laminated surface. An Mp3, centred in the complex knots of headphone wires- apparently it was already loaded with songs. That thought escaped Poppy but the quick, needing to please mind of Paul remedied that.

In the draws of the desk were clothes, normal, non-military, comfortable clothes; grey joggers, vests, t-shirts, tennis shoes and loud, printed, vibrant socks.

The bathroom continued the colour. Poppy had chosen several shampoos, with exotic fragrances instead of the regulation plain stuff she was stuck with. The shower gels were equally fragrant and loud. Hairbrushes, loofas and wash mitts hung off a small hook under the shower head. Lastly, on another hook behind the door, was a huge, puppy soft dressing gown.

Finally, the bed on which Victor was still sat was a large blanket that had equally softness to her dressing gown. Flat, white pillows were gone – given to Paul to dispose of – larger, plump ones took their place.

"Better?" said Victor as he looked at Poppy who was happily pouring over stuff. In response Poppy whipped around and strode over, putting her legs over him and sitting on Victor's hip bones before accepting the assault that came. Poppy smiled as she felt one of his fangs nick her bottom lip,

"Mine" She said in between a moment's breath, Victor ignored her.