Wearing a towel and silently praying to whatever god invented locks, I pace around my room (blinds drawn), singing to myself.
"Well, I'm the same kid I was
Out in the schoolyard
Hallowed my pockets with sticks
From the parking lot."
No, I don't feel weird doing it. And even if I look stupid it doesn't mean I'm going to stop. See I have this theory that if my mouth is moving, my brain will stop working for a little while. Works remarkably well, actually, thank you for asking.
"Though I walked alone
I was sure there was somebody.
There on my shoulders,
Quietly guiding me."
I hum the rest of the melody while simultaneously hunting for my pickle t shirt. I know I brought it! I don't go anywhere without the pickle t shirt! SWEAR!
Goddamnit, I didn't bring it, did I?
With a groan and what feels like the beginning of dry heaves, I flop down own the bed and make a few choked-sob noises.
This is not the straw that broke the camel's back, it is the electron in the atom in the molecule in the straw that broke the camel's back. Good Lord.
"I wanna go back to bed," I whine with as much fervor as possible, repeatedly smacking my head with my palm.
…
Okay, I really was expecting one of the vampires to show up just now and (if it was Josef) make some remark connecting 'bed' to 'sex', or (if it was, well, anyone else) sincerely asking if I'm okay and if I really do feel unwell and should go back to bed.
Huh. I hath been trained well.
XXX(has anyone noticed that my scene dividers are also a symbol for highly potent alcoholic drinks?)
"Hey guys," I try out a little smile to see how everyone has faired after Scary Johnny Breakdown Funtime Explosion.
"Oh! Hi…" Beth grins a very-fake-Beth-grin in my general direction, exuding exceedingly creepy cheer.
I can't help it, though I know she's trying to be helpful. I make an eyes-slightly-widened-pursed-lips-wow-that's-a-bit-off-kilter face, give her a little smile back, and look in the other room to see Josef, Mick and Henry all trying very hard not to stain the white furniture while drinking breakfast.
"Where's Vicki?" I ask, turning back to Beth.
"Said she still had work to do, so she's out taking calls from a client."
"What about Mort?"
Beth shrugs. He's your vampire, shouldn't you know?
If she'd said that out loud instead of communicating it tacitly, I would have remarked with a "HEY!"…but I don't.
"Thereyouareyouokayyouhadmerealworriedyoulooktootiredmaybeyoushouldgobacktobedyouneedsleep!!" Before he even finishes his word necklace, I'm crushed to a hard chest, his arms coming around to presumably constrict me to death, my head tucked under his, and all I can smell is soap and old paper.
"Oh, sweetie," he says, finally calming down though not releasing his death grip.
"Don't" – gasp – "baby" – big breath – "me!" INHALE!
"What?"
"You're making it very hard to breath." I tell him, my face still smushed into his chest.
"Oh," he replies, only loosening his grip slightly.
"Look, it was a bad dream, not an assassination attempt. I'm not a five year old."
After a muscle-tensed few seconds, he releases me and backs up a few feet. Yeah, remember? Personal bubble rule. Extends to people I met in previous existences.
"Uh, sorry. It's just, you know, they told me what it was about," he motions to Beth and the not-present Vicki (?).
"It's not like it's the first one. Relax, man."
"But-"
"Shut up, Mort." I smile, coming forward to give him a pat on the head, much to his annoyance.
"But I think I saw his face. Just in case I'm gonna try and draw it today. So no vampire protective possessive stuff."
He fake-pouts. "Am not."
"Not what?"
"Possessive!"
"Come on. Any guy sees me walking down a street next to you is going to be intimidated or scared shitless."
"By the Indian Mafia?"
He smirks, unwavering when I thwack him in the arm.
XXX
I'm a terrible artist, and this is proving much more difficult than I thought. First, whenever I've drawn faces in the past I was copying a picture, but now I only have a weird shadowed dream thing that I saw for thirty seconds at best.
He had a very sharp nose, and about a centimeter up in had a little bend that hooked it downward, and a broad chin. Then, perfectly shaped eyebrows and wide-set eyes complete the look-at-me-I'm-dangerous-but-well-muscled male model aura.
I try to draw it and it ends up looking like a lopsided blobby thing.
I erase little bits of the head, making it sharper here and softer there and more defined here and less shadowed there and longer here and shorter there. In a few hours, it is starting to look just a wee bit like what I remember.
There's a knock on my door, and Vicki enters without waiting for an answer.
"Come in, why don't you," I say bitterly from my bed.
"Sorry. Just wanted to, uh," she coughs.
"Talk…to you…Johnny…?"
"Yeah."
"What about?"
She winces. "What happened to you, exactly? Or was it just a normal bad dream?"
"You ever had a nightmare that wasn't related to the supernatural somehow?"
"No. At least, not lately."
"Exactly."
She approaches the foot of the bed, twisting her glasses in her hands and giving me a hard look.
"Listen. I've been through a lot of shit, too. So, if you want to…talk, or something…"
"I started dating a newly turned vampire and had to teach him how to hunt without killing by letting him suck my blood."
"I was almost the gateway to hell on earth."
"I'm the reincarnated soul of a four hundred year old girl who killed herself so Mort could live."
"You seen Groundhog Day? That happened to me, only a lot worse and I saw Pandora's box opened multiple times."
"My psycho vampire ex tried to kill me."
"Hey, I was there for that."
"I was there when you got kidnapped by the crazy multiple personality guy!"
"So?"
"Just saying." She snorts.
"That the guy?"
"I think so. Sort of." I chuckle without conviction and hand the notebook over to her. "Recognize him?"
She laughs, looking at the picture. "I wish. Hey, you're pretty good, you know that? You must have got a good view in the dream."
"Not really. Saw him for a few seconds. Heck, I'm just relying on what little clairvoyance my cry-fests have provided in the past that this is even the guy."
She whistles. "Nice. You're like on par with the department's sketch artist."
"Liar."
Vicki shrugs, sitting on the bed and the bed depressing with her weight. "It's good, though. Really."
She hands it back to me, and I scan my eyes over it again. I could fudge a little on the nose, and maybe fix the chin, but basically this is as good as it'll get.
"Maybe Ben will recognize him." I look up at her, surprised, frankly, that I hadn't thought of it myself.
"Yeah. Maybe…"
A/N: So…? Yeah, I know it's pointless, but…I felt like it. Bah. –waves hand in a dismissive motion- I never got into this for the sake of…(well, anything). Uhm…Sorry.
