Hello I have no grasp on time, I've been self-isolating since 2009.
Every day is Halloween.

23. Welfare Check – 5

When her brothers found her halfway to the library, Shilo had little choice but to make a deal with them. It was impossible to just say no when Hugo used two hopeful little boys with stars in their eyes to his advantage – proving even heroes weren't above utilizing underhanded and manipulative tactics.

She wanted to spit acid at her big brother, but for the twins' sake, she settled for coldly warning him that she'd give them tonight, and that was it, and it was only for the twerps because they'd come all this way and were skipping school for this.

Hugo held up his hands as if in peace, assuring her that they wouldn't interfere after tonight. It was a lie if she ever heard one, but until they were out of town for good, she'd just have to accept whatever he had planned. As long as the other blue idiot in her life stayed out of the picture, everything would be fine.

Upon returning to the apartment, Shilo was faced with her displeased landlord, the senior citizen waving a cane at the aircraft parked on her lawn. She'd never seen the old woman so crabby before. Apparently, she'd called the police earlier, but the suave superhero Hego had convinced the baffled officers to turn a blind eye, though it didn't stop a news crew or two from stopping by.

Mrs. Landlady couldn't be swayed so easily, but for the sake of keeping her lease, Shilo tried to smile and politely explain her visitors would be leaving after trick-or-treating. She elbowed her elder brother, hoping he'd take the hint, but Hego didn't look particularly ashamed of himself for inconveniencing the senior citizen with his jet scaring her pack of little white poodles.

To make up for it, Mego offered to walk the yapping little dogs to take them elsewhere to relieve themselves. Shilo couldn't shut him up in time. Mrs. Landlady had been hinting around at dog-walking for extra cash for a while now, but he couldn't possibly know that. He was just an expert at getting under her skin. Before she could object, Shilo and each of her brothers were handed leashes. And bags.

Bags which Shilo shoved to Milo.

Once the bouncing yapping pack of little dogs were walked and returned to a slightly-less-cross Mrs. Landlady, Pops and all of her brothers shadowed her up the stairs to her crummy apartment. Hugo, still dressed as Hego, was practically breathing down her neck. Cornered, she turned on them at the top to jab Hugo in the chest and snap that none of them were invited into her home.

Because that's what it was. It was her home. It didn't feel much like her home, miserable as it was, and she hated the sound of it leaving her mouth, but she was paying the rent on the place. They had no right to barge in uninvited, and she didn't have to invite them either.

Holding her ground, she was on the verge of flaring up her hands and blasting Hugo back down the steps, if it weren't for everyone piled up behind him – and to make matters worse, her father ducked around him. He stood a solid few inches taller than her, his mustache hooked downward in a perpetual frown as he crossed his arms and grunted at her to open the door, as if he still had some authority over her. As if he'd ever had some authority over her.

She put her foot down, crossing her arms in turn as she barred the door, even if Hugo could pick her up and kick it down if he wanted, and get away with it too by claiming it was for justice and the greater good and the usual baloney.

It was just cold enough out to see her breath, yet suddenly she felt too hot bundled up in Drakken's sweater as she stood there facing off. The thought made her swallow and her resolve almost wavered as nerves snuck up on her. Could they tell it was a man's sweater? Did they realize it was too clean and neat to have belonged to that destitute miscreant she'd let hang about? As comfortable as it was, suddenly she didn't want to be caught wearing it, even if it didn't look much different than the sort she usually wore.

If she let them so much as see inside, now that it was daylight, would they realize how involved she was with the rogue doctor? No – of course they wouldn't. That was ridiculous. She had no incriminating evidence inside – except for what hid under her bed, and that had nothing to do with him, though an excess of cash might raise questions. With her father and brothers dogging her, insistent on taking a look around, Shilo racked her brains but all she could think of were the custom gloves the doctor had tailored for her. But she had an old restrictive pair she could use tonight – they didn't have to know about the weaponized gloves.

She was probably worried for nothing, but nonetheless, Shilo stamped her foot and told her father bluntly, to his face and in front of two kindergarteners, to fuck off already.

He raised a finger to wag at her and drew a deep breath to begin lecturing her, and she could hear it before he uttered, "Listen here, young lady—"

The spiel went in one ear and out the other. She tried not to consider her hands might be shaking ever so slightly as she reached into the purse at her hip and fished out her wallet to brandish her driver's license in her father's face as if flashing ID would prove her case. "I'm an adult," she reminded hotly, barely managing to squeeze a word in edgewise though she felt childish just saying it. It wasn't like she was twelve anymore and he was demanding a look around her room to make sure it was tidy. "Get off my ass."

Her father gawped at her, and she pointedly lit up a cigarette as the one desperate parent she had left made a bumbling attempt to disregard the fact she'd left the nest. It was for her own good, he was only looking out for her – it was the same old baloney Hugo fed her. Taking a drag wasn't setting a very good example for her littlest brothers, but their father wasn't setting a good example for them either if proving his parental authority was his intent. Over her, he had none. He really hadn't had any for a long time – not over her, and not over the twins either. Global Justice dictated their upbringing – he merely paid child support, more or less. He was just too prideful to admit the role of father had been stripped from him the day the comet hit.

Her pops choked as he waved away the smoke and she slipped inside. "You're still—," he started again, and she slammed the door behind her. She was sure young and dumb was shouted through it as she twisted the deadbolt.

"I'll be out in a minute!" she hollered through the door, and ripped the oversized sweater over her head to toss on her bed. She changed quickly – in the bathroom, just to be safe – but wasn't quick enough.

Sometimes she wondered if Milo could phase through walls, but knew it was just his knack for shrinking small enough to squeeze through cracks like a mouse.

However he managed the feat, the lavender dork was in her apartment when she exited the bathroom, giving her a start when she found him sitting on her bed.

Worse yet, Milo was scrutinizing the ornamental green and black water pipe she'd hidden under the bed earlier. The sight of him with the paraphernalia jarred her nerves for a second – but so what? She'd bought it last week from a smoke shop just off Main Street. It was perfectly legal, and unused to boot. Granted, she had bought it with the money she stole from a 24-Seven, and what she planned to eventually use it for wasn't so legal – but it proved nothing. Without GJ drugging her with a suppressant disguised as sleep-aid, could they really fault her for self-medicating?

"Wait until Dad finds out about this," snickered Milo, flashing a shit-eating grin her way.

"Breyer," she hissed.

At the simple threat to his horsey collectables, Milo went rigid and narrowed his eyes on her as he tucked the apparatus back where he'd found it.

He rose from her bed, only to inspect the makeup on her dresser and try out her hand lotion as he went on. "You know Pops is just trying to look out for you," he said, barely changing the subject. He sounded just like Hugo for a second. "You didn't have to go and cop an attitude with him. He's all salty now and there's no telling how long I have to deal with it. So thanks a ton. Hey, can I borrow this?"

Shilo snatched her bottle of black nail polish back from him and tossed it across the small room to her bed, where it bounced off and hit the floor.

She grabbed her brother by the wrist to tow him away before he could get into anything else, but he shrunk out of her grip and she felt the elf-like body perch on her shoulder. Tiny mousey hands were in her hair, venturing too close for comfort to the cut on the side of her head sustained in the automobile accident Friday night. It was still a few days away from being completely healed without a trace.

"How'd you get this?" Milo wondered, his voice an odd pitch now that his vocal cords were shrunk so small.

"I fell," she fibbed as she exited the apartment. It wasn't a lie – not really. The van had fallen over, and she'd fallen with it.

"Still fighting crime?" he guessed.

"It's a good excuse to roundhouse kick people," she stated, and that much wasn't a lie either. It didn't mean she was still fighting for the sake of good.

Her miniature violet brother bounced off her shoulder to resume normal size and slide down the handrail in the fashion she always used to scold the boys for doing back home. He hopped off elegantly at the end and landed on his toes between the two little boys rushing back to the staircase. The thought that he'd do well in ballet crossed her mind for the thousandth time, and it would be a lie if the familiar thought didn't warm her chest a little, as discontented as she was to have her family here tonight.

While Shilo had been busy serving hot drinks and treats at Buckley's Brew, Pops and the twins had done some shopping. Wesley and Willow fought over who would give Shilo her bucket as she reached the bottom step, and there was no getting out of it when she tried to decline.

She'd already accepted defeat when she'd agreed to dress into her gear to misuse as a Halloween costume. Her brothers were dressed in their own, as they'd been all day – and with her brought into the fold, the Team Go set was finally complete. Shilo's shoulders slumped as her big brother grinned warmly and commented on how great it was to have her with them tonight, even if she refused to don the domino mask. Pointedly trying to keep her among them, he dropped a hefty arm around her shoulders to trap her in their midst.

She shoved away from Hego, only to bump into Mego, and she was beginning to feel suffocated as the Wego twins took her by the hands. Mock Team Go costumes were a regular sight in Go City, but here in the Nevada oasis, they had to be uncommon if not unheard of – even so, there were too many Team Go uniforms out tonight.

Shilo felt like gasping for air as she stood straight, reminding herself that this was her life – this was her family , she'd grown up with this, she was used to this, and nothing about tonight was unusual.

Except for the fact they were thousands of miles from their hometown, and she wasn't guiding her brothers around the familiar neighborhood they lived in. She'd never been trick-or-treating anywhere else but Go City. Then there was the fact the older two of her brothers had quit trick-or-treating some years ago, thus their presence was unusual. She was used to being talked into family costumes, but wearing her uniform instead of a real costume was added weirdness that made her feel peculiarly exposed in a suit she was accustomed to wearing as an everyday outfit.

The twins were eager to knock on doors and ring doorbells, and Shilo seemed to be the only one to remember to tell them absolutely no duplication to score extra candy. It didn't feel right coming out of her mouth now, reminding the little copycats that doing so would be cheating and unfair to all the other kids.

It took seven houses and a sorry handful of chalky candies with one piece of taffy to split between the twins before Shilo paused to consider the rogue doctor's earlier suggestion. She didn't yet know the town like the back of her hand, but she was familiar enough by now to know it wasn't a false lead. She'd scoped out the north end a while ago, and even a solid two weeks before Halloween there had been a wealth of holiday decorations. She knew the houses there sported new paint and manicured lawns. There was no hiding it that the community out that way was of a higher class than the majority of the oasis town.

So Shilo grabbed the boys by the hands and quietly asked them if they were up for a bit of a walk if it meant scoring better candy. Of course they were. They were bundles of energy that didn't need the sugar – but they wouldn't be her problem at the end of the night. Hugo and Milo were chatting lowly with one another, oblivious to her whispering to the twins, "Ready? Set…"

"Go!" squealed the Wegos, getting a split-second head start on her.

The older boys didn't seem to even notice Shilo jogging off with two gleeful little ones racing alongside her to keep up.

As she ran with them, she didn't expect the swell of excitement warming her chest to hit her so fast. Her youngest brothers weren't so bad. Their hands were sticky, but her impulse to recoil and wipe her palms on her pants wasn't so strong as to call their company repulsive. She couldn't say the same about Hugo and Milo. She'd rather the nose-picking twerps any day. It helped she wore gloves though.

She stayed a fair distance ahead of the older two boys, who eventually noticed and shouted after her. By Main Street, she'd lost them. She stared over her shoulder almost as much as she watched for cracks in the sidewalk, which the twins were adamant she not step on. She wanted to step on every one of them. She'd have to make up for lost time once they were out of her hair.

"Step on a crack, break your mother's back," she mouthed to herself, grinding her heel into one as the boys darted up to a bowl of candy offered by Buckley herself standing outside her café.

Two raggedy dolls, Hansel and Gretel hand-stitched from old fabrics, sat in the caldron by the painted café door, guarded by Buckley the gingerbread witch. It was probably a risky thing to allow, given the henchwoman's dislike for heroes, superheroes in particular, but the giant witch in colorful apron stooped down to their level and spared an extra home-made chocolate truffle for each. Just like Hansel and Gretel, the children greedily wolfed them down on the spot, and Buckley smiled just as warmly as she did for the average customer.

"What cuties! Shilo, I could just gobble 'em up," she rumbled, peeking up past her curly bangs. Her smile fell just slightly with the wane of the false cheer. "Borrowed?"

Shilo shrugged meekly. Suddenly she wanted to usher the twins away, but Buckley was forking over more chocolate for their greedy little fingers.

Buckley hummed contentedly at the little boys going nuts for her homemade candies. "You know, there are special institutions for the little ones. If you ever find yourself with any," she noted as she stood. "Start 'em young is the motto. But that's not much better than what that big brother of yours is doing to them, is it? A shame. The little ones are so impressionable."

She was unsure if the former henchwoman was advocating sending small children away to boot camp, but she had a point. Grooming them to be heroes willing to commit self-sacrifice couldn't have been much better than training little boys to be henchmen.

"Hm. Well. I'll look into it when I have kids," she dismissed, pulling her brothers back away from the witchy baker before they could reach for yet more chocolate. "See you tomorrow, Buck. Say thank you, boys."

"Thank you!" they chimed on cue.

As she tugged her baby brothers along with her down Main Street, she had to blink and shake her head incredulously. A school for hench kids? How many henchmen even were there in the world? She knew they were people too, but to think they were out there reproducing – actually, she didn't want to think about that. It squicked her out.

"You're gonna be a mom?" wondered Willow suddenly, and suddenly Shilo realized what she'd said moments ago.

"Duh! That's what girls do," answered Wesley as if it were obvious.

Shilo squeezed their hands. "Not always," she corrected stiffly, though the hairs on the back of her neck were prickling at the very idea now. "So don't get your hopes up about not being the youngest in the family anymore. You'll always be the littlest twerps."

They whined in reply. She laughed it off, and inwardly hoped that the next storefront offering candy would distract them from any questions about the birds and the bees. It did. She breathed a sigh of relief.

All the sugar was beginning to get to them, she was sure of it. The Wegos clad in red and black pajamas were starting to run ahead of her, and run behind her, and dash across the street despite her hollering at them to use a crosswalk or at least look both ways first. She barely kept the two little superkids in sight at all times to ensure they didn't multiply and blow their cover.

How they ever made it to the north end of town was a wonder. They had a nice collection of candy filling the bottoms of their pumpkin buckets, which they deposited in hers for safekeeping by the time they reached the well-to-do neighborhoods.

Given the cloud cover granting an early nightfall, it was good and dark by now – perfect viewing conditions for the abundance of elaborate lights and yard ornaments. Fake cobwebs on hedges and porches, giant spiders, entire yards of styrofoam headstones, detailed skeletons, the occasional fog machine – the whole nine yards. She'd seen better in Go City, but it was impressive nonetheless.

High on a sugar rush, the twins darted across lawns and up walkways, ringing doorbells with fancy chimes, one or two even rigged in the spirit of the season with ghoulish cackling when rang. At one such abode, festooned in glimmering purple and gold lights, she hovered behind the twins as they bounced eagerly on their toes for the blurry figure behind the glass of the front door to answer.

Shilo had to stifle an abrupt bark of laughter as a young man in a long white dress opened up. Accessorized with fluffy white angel wings and a golden sash to match his halo, it had to be the least masculine costume she'd seen on a man yet tonight that wasn't blatantly meant to be comically feminine. She supposed there were male angels too, though.

The Wego twins sang the age-old trick-or-treat rhyme for the hundredth time tonight before she could chide them that it was impolite, but it earned them a nice chocolate bar each anyway as Shilo composed herself behind her hand and looked back to the angel boy.

She really shouldn't have taken that second look.

She found herself staring slack-jawed. Not at the angel, but rather – well, maybe at him a little bit, but he was a little pleasing to look at with blond hair and picture-perfect bright blue eyes – but rather, the glass shelves she spied behind him. She shifted to the side just slightly, her stare darting from aquamarine eyes to the breathtaking assortment of glimmering geodes and chunks of crystal in every color and – and aqua eyes were staring her down again.

His mouth was moving.

Shilo didn't hear a single word he said.

She blinked away from a perfect heavenly smile as something was extended to her – his hand, right, right – but still stared stupidly at the candy bar he offered in his palm for a second before reaching for it.

She didn't even know what came out of her own mouth. Something along the lines of, "I, uh – h-hey – uhm," maybe. She was effectively tongue-tied. Between dazzling aqua eyes looking straight into her and a staggering wall of glitzy precious minerals just behind him, whatever was responsible for sorting out words had shorted out.

Since when did she sweat so much? She never sweated this much around Drakken. Okay, maybe a little, but she usually kept her cool well enough and – and it was a damn good thing she was wearing her restrictive gloves because she felt her hands burning up inside them. Drakken made her hands sparkle on a good day but – why the hell was her geeky blue boss her first comparison anyway?

Her little brothers were leaving the steps without her.

Shilo shook and snapped out if it, blurting a brusque, "Thank you!" as she tossed the candy bar in her bucket and spun on her heel to tear her stare away from too many pretty dazzling objects of interest in that big white house.

Mistakenly casting a glance back, she nearly ran into a hedge lining the walkway. The boy waved, calling, "God bless!" with a melodious voice like an angel she wanted to damn.

What a prick.

Her face was still warm and there was no reason she should feel so weak in the knees as if she'd just chased a villain across Go City, but she heaved a deep calming breath as she trudged after two tireless little boys with boundless energy.

Shilo threw another peek back over her shoulder to the house – and while the house and everything in it were as attractive as ever, something far less so caught her eye.

A mustachioed man in a deerstalker cap had his head lowered, puffing at a pipe and sauntering along leisurely in a long brown overcoat. She narrowed her eyes at the Sherlock.

Who did her pops think he was fooling?

Just as she considered trying to shake him, she was taken by surprise, ambushed by two superheroes in purple and blue. She'd foolishly been glowering back at her father when they leapt out at her, catching her by the shoulders and leading her after the twins and up the nearest pathway to collect candy as the full set.

When asked what they were supposed to be, all but Shilo proudly answered, "Team Go!"

She curled her lip and rolled her eyes, glad to have the distraction nonetheless to take her mind off stupid angels and pretty rocks. She was towed along for several houses, filling up her own bucket the rest of the way, but she grit her teeth and tolerated it because that was the agreement. They never said she had to like it.

Once her bucket was heavy and full to the brim – a blessing in disguise, as the twins had been depositing candy in her bucket to make room for more in theirs – she was given some slack. She hung back a little to skip receiving candy, distancing herself ever more at each door, until finally, she didn't even bother entering the yards with them anymore.

She fell further and further back, until they were half a block away across the street and much too caught up and hyped up on candy to notice she wasn't beside them anymore. She wanted to think the fact alone that they didn't notice her absence was a good sign they were getting used to her being…well, absent from their lives now.

The night seemed a few degrees colder suddenly.

Just as Shilo was casting a wary glance back toward her father to check how far away the stalking Sherlock was, a startling hiss in her ear made her whip around the other way, and she jumped away from a flash of red and black and – blue?

She reeled as the man lurched toward her, cackling lowly, "I've come to drink your blood!" He couldn't keep a straight face, but she could tell he tried.

Shilo shoved him back around the corner he'd jumped out from, and threw a glance back toward her father for good measure before joining the rogue doctor out of sight around the privacy fence.

"Ugh. It's 'I vant to suck your blood,'" she corrected theatrically, accent laid on thick. Growing up with toddlers, she'd had more practice with funny voices than she wanted to admit, and her face burned when she realized it slipped.

"Ohh, chills!" shivered the vampire. A cheap cape hung around his shoulders, but the scarlet vest with silver accents he wore didn't look like it came off Smarty Mart shelves, nor did the silken dress shirt or neatly-tucked necktie. She could be wrong, though. His oxfords were as shiny and slick as the hair he still wore pulled back in a ponytail. He even sported a pair of fangs which he flashed with his mischievous grin. All he was missing was a dribble of fake blood.

Shilo realized, to her dismay, her hands were clammy and beginning to burn. Fortunately she wore the smothering gloves tonight. She clenched her hands into fists and struck the offending blue idiot in the chest with a hard rap of her knuckles. "Drew—"

Evidentially, she hadn't hit him hard enough to wipe the smile off his face. "Ah-ah," he said, wagging a finger. "It's Drak -ula tonight, my dear." Maybe she needed to hit him again.

He seemed just a little too ballsy tonight, and no wonder. She swore she smelled whiskey on his breath. Drinking and catching her out and about with her family had to be more reckless than anything they'd done Friday. He was a far cry from genius right now.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed as he peered past her, toward her brothers skipping ever further away to trick-or-treat the last house at the far end of the block, still blessedly oblivious to her not beside them. She should just walk away now, for his sake. Yet she couldn't move.

Drakken hummed pleasantly and held up a jack-o-lantern bucket like her own. "What's it look like?" he shot, plucking a peanut butter cup from the top and offering it to her. "I'm trick-or-treating."

She had enough candy. She really didn't need to snatch it from his fingers or tear into the treat to take a bite. "Did you steal that?" she grumbled around the peanut butter and nodded to his bucket of goodies.

"Will you be upset with me if I say yes?" wondered Drakken – Drakula – whatever, as he fumbled to peel away the wrapper of a tiny candy bar he popped whole in his mouth.

"Yes." She had half a mind to stomp on his foot, but she settled for putting a little pressure on a toe.

Drakken shifted away, but he had nowhere to go. He was backed into the fence. "Well, what do you expect from me?" he snapped back at her, a little too loudly, a little too impatiently, a little too close to her face. Shilo took a step back and off his toe, and before she could get her thoughts in order, he harrumphed and rolled his eyes. "I bought it," he grumped. "And the cape. About an hour ago. Do you need to see the receipt?"

Shilo crossed her arms, habitually tucking her warm hands safely into her armpits, and shook her head. Warm hands disregarded a second later, she was picking at his cape before she could think better of it, grudgingly looking him over again. She was standing too close again. She was feeling a little too warm again, and this time it was a dark pair of lonely sapphire eyes staring down into her. "You look nice," she mumbled before she could run it past herself first. Better than some dumb angel.

No, no he wasn't – the angel was better. The angel was blond. Younger, too.

"Nice?" scoffed the blue doctor impersonating a vampire. "Not evil or devilishly handsome? Come on, give me something here. I put work into this outfit." Well, he didn't have to beg for it.

Shilo was stepping back again, her heart jumping up into her throat, and she was indisputably warm from head to toe. She had to clasp her hands behind her back before he could catch a glimpse of green embers escaping the smothering gloves, but his attention thankfully didn't stray that low. One of her nervous hands found its way up to her hair despite her uneasy attempt to hide them, and she twirled a lock around a finger as she nervously sputtered, "No, I wouldn't say – no." She snorted and shook her head, face burning. She was not one for words tonight.

Drakken hummed thoughtfully. At least he seemed to get the gist of what she was trying to say, though she didn't need his arm behind her back, gently guiding her down the new dark street and away from her family. "Really?" he chirped. "That's a shame. And what are you tonight? A superhero?"

She stopped in her tracks. Drakken swung around and paused before her, facing her glare head-on. She didn't like that question, and she didn't have to explain to him why. His guilty eyes darted away, and he pouted and dug into his bucket for another candy.

He pulled a strange face as he sucked on a chocolate drop, and she relaxed just slightly at the change of subject when he opened his trap again. "What do you say you and I split off and go have our own fun?" he asked leisurely, gesturing down the eerily dark street behind him, back in the direction he'd been leading her. His quiet chuckle was practically a purr. "I've got a bucket of treats and, well, we like tricks too, don't we?"

"We do," Shilo agreed warily. Her feet were heavy, but a wry curiosity urged them to move. She didn't know what she was thinking, taking the arm he offered like a gentleman, but she willed her hand to cool down as she did. The rest of her was warm enough to compensate. It was easy to forget what she was doing out here tonight in the first place with his toothy smirk beaming down at her.

His mouth was moving.

She didn't hear a damn word he said.

However, she did hear a distant familiar melody in the form of a whistle, and her blood iced over and her breath caught in her throat and she whipped her head around to find the source. Drakken glanced back as well, and then she shoved him away from her.

"Beat it, would ya?" she all but snarled at the bewildered man. She was bristling, shaking maybe – he was good as dead if he didn't leave this very second, but the big dumb blue oaf was just standing there with his brow quirked at her. She added in a hiss, "My dad is watching us," hoping it would inspire him to scram.

The spectacled man's eyes widened and flicked past her and back down to her. "Your dad? You mean the Sherlock back there? Oh." He bit his lip to silence a swear as he took a quick step away from her. He bowed courteously, despite his haste, and cleared his throat. "A good evening to you, miss," he uttered and spun with a showy flair of his cape to leave.

"Or, y'know, you could man up and meet him," Shilo teased dryly to his back before she could remember the ramifications of meeting her father. If only she came from a normal family – but if she had, she wouldn't be here now with a funny blue Drakula nervously looking back at her and whimpering. Hell, he might not even be blue if it weren't for her freakish family.

Drakken groped at the air and wrung his gloved hands. "I-I'll pass," he stuttered. "If he's anything like you, I'd rather – I'll – it's not that I'm a coward if that's what you're insinuating."

Shilo gave him a wry smirk, because it was the best she could offer with her father's footsteps approaching behind her, and waved him off.

She steeled herself against whatever terrible or disapproving things her pops had to say about her peculiar blue distraction as she watched the vampire dissolve into the shadows of the dark street. So what if her father had seen him? Surely it was too dark to make out any details from this distance anyway. If she just kept Pops distracted for a while, Drakken could get out of dodge, and the real threat, Hego, would be none the wiser. They'd be safe as long as she plead the fifth.