Carmilla sat on Laura's bed with her leather sketchpad, casting her mind around for something to draw. Her eyes roved around the room, picking out mundane items. A blue square shaped mug. An open package of snickerdoodle cookies. A derelict laptop sitting on the desk. Not good enough. A picture of Laura and her dad traipsing through the Alps caught her eye. Laura looked happy, happier than she's ever seen her, a mischievous grin lighting up her features. Her father, rugged and handsome, smiled beside her, giving the camera a thumbs up. She scooted closer, nose almost touching the wall. I wonder that's like, having someone you could talk to. About anything.

She looked down at the yellowing paper, her charcoal stick smudging her fingers. That's good enough. Raising her hand, she let the stick slide over the smooth surface, drawing in broad steady strokes. A rough outline of a face appeared. Quick brushes produced eyes, lips, a small scrunched up nose. She hummed to herself, Rachmanioff's Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini Eighteenth Variation, as she drew.

Carmilla didn't hear the frantic footsteps in the hallway, too absorbed in the lines blossoming across her canvas. The door banged open, startling her. She accidentally crushed the charcoal between her thumb and forefinger. Was zum Teufel! Cursing fluently under her breath, she examined the ugly streak slicing through her drawing.

"What the fuck are you?"

Danny. Merde a Dieu.

"You just made me screw up a perfectly good drawing," she replied calmly.

Danny, framed in the doorway, scowled at her, limbs akimbo.

"Are you a vampire?"

So direct. So Danny.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Carmilla shifted slightly on the bed, turning over the paper. Why am I even drawing Laura?

"Don't play dumb. Laura thinks you're a vampire and I want to know why she thinks that."

Carmilla froze for the tiniest of milliseconds. I didn't know it were possible for vampires to feel cold. She gave Danny a calculating smirk.

"Do I look like a vampire to you?"

Danny hesitated. Carmilla smiled grimly, relying on pop culture to work in her favor.

"Well, you go out into the sun, and you eat normal food."

"Exactly."

Danny slumped against the doorframe, some of her suspicion leaving her. Carmilla regarded her silently. I've had over three hundred years to practice lying. But I'm not that good.

"Laura fainted when she saw you, which sort of fits in with what she told me."

"What did she say?"

"That someone who looks like you killed her mom. And that someone was a vampire."

A dull memory tugged at Carmilla's mind. Sun, a drained corpse, a father and his young daughter. Could she be that little girl? What is she doing here? No, that is too big of a coincidence. She kept her expression carefully neutral, not betraying the tumultuous memories that roiled within her. But, perhaps I need to be more careful.

"Well, I guess you're not a vampire," Danny concluded, taking in Carmilla's blank face.

She does not want to believe that I am what I am.

Danny straightened up and advanced towards the bed, a hungry gleam in her eyes.

I should not do this with her anymore.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm in the middle of something."

Danny halted mid-stride.

"When has ever that stopped you?"

"Now."

Danny looked down at Carmilla. Seemed to really see her for the first time.

"Don't you fucking dare tell me I'm just another 'study buddy' of yours."

Carmilla simply cocked an eyebrow before contemplating her ruined sketch.

She means nothing to me.

Picking up another stick of charcoal, she started anew, tracing careful lines on the paper.

She is nothing.

Carmilla only looked up when the door slammed.