CHAPTER SEVEN
FAMILIAR ROUTINES
The days blur together as Ariel's presence within the hospital and even the town start to become more natural, less of an oddity or a new toy to gawk at. The eyes on her are fleeting and few, more often it's in acknowledgement or greeting. She still hears the whispers between older nurses or the not so smart nurses, the ones that still look at her with a burning hatred or jealousy when she talks with ease to Carlisle in the hall or as they start to begin a routine of sitting outside for lunch.
A few younger nurses, with more air in their heads than brains, would at times try to sit at the tables outside. As if their presence would be forced to be acknowledged, but each time Carlisle gives them little greeting before pulling out a chair that Ariel accepts with warm eyes.
Ariel never comments when Carlisle never brings lunch to the table - the few times he has, it's been offered to her on the days that her schedule is full and the chance for her to get to the cafeteria on time before everything is out is low. He always has a prestige container in his hand, one lacking condensation and is too clean to be well used despite the fact he has it every day.
She picks through a salad, eying the container in front to Carlisle with twinkling, amused eyes. He notes the way that she picks out the bits of kale and purple lettuce, eating around them, just as he's noted the way that even though they've ate together quite often now, he's not once seen her eat a piece of meat. It's always vegetables. Fruits. Toast with spreads and creative wraps.
He wonders if it's a choice or a forced diet - his mind spinning with possible ideas. He's been reading - modern forums to forgotten books. He imagines that his office at the house has many things thrown across the table with sprawling notes and marks. Pages that he's stolen from the Volturi that had previously been carefully stored away like a dark secret that are now being examined carefully under a low light; vague descriptions of things that they think may be out there, but don't have anything concrete on. Druid maybe, Carlisle hums. She seems to have an affinity for nature, but I don't know if that's a characteristic of what she is or just a personality trait.
"I don't think you've touched your drink, Dr. Cullen."
Her voice is light, full of amusement as her eyes twinkle - as if it's an inside joke. The corner of her lips are turned in a small smile and he can't help but get the feeling that she's baiting him - teasing him, poking at him to see if he'll bite. He could be wrong - that's always a possibility. But she's looking at him with those dazzling eyes of hidden mischief.
It's a game of cat and mouse, their clever own version of tag. Their way of testing each other, prodding for more information and dancing around certain subjects. It's routine that they've danced before - as if they both know that the other is hiding something, but neither of them are bothered by it. As if it's just a fun game to see if they can get the other to whisper their secret first.
He has to admit; to a degree, the idea of her knowing what he really is thrills him more than worries him. If she does know - if he's not just reading too much into their dangerously flirtatious game - then it takes the load off of his shoulders, the idea of holding back and not leaning into whatever this is becoming. Edward wouldn't be thrilled, he imagines that the others may not be either, but if she does know - well, it's not as if she's run around town telling everyone about it or tried to kill them yet.
It makes the game more fun knowing that she's not human either; he knows when she seems to keep pace him too easily in the halls, the fast reflexes of catching falling supplies, the way the animals seem to just be drawn to her - how even the deer reach out to them during their lunch routine, despite their fear of him. It just begs the real question - what is she?
She's told him so much - she has siblings, two of which live in LA with their respective spouses (mates?). One is her older brother - the oldest of them. The other is Lucy (a nickname, he thinks), her younger brother. Is her family like his? A chosen coven? Or are they really related? Are their mates human or otherwise?
"I don't think I've seen you touch anything made from an animal."
She has the nerve to laugh and he leans into the sound. Her grin is turning almost vicious as she continues to poke at her salad.
"Maybe I'm just a vegetarian."
She doesn't say it as if it's a fact - it's as if she's telling him a mere suggestion rather than an actual answer to his unspoken question. She spots the look in his eyes and snorts, the grin not leaving her face.
"The truth is, Dr. Cullen, I just don't simply support anything that's unnecessary."
It's an unexpected answer, yet he thinks that it suits her. Her entire time at the hospital, she's been the dread of lazy workers as she's made quick work of turning some of the other nurses around and not hesitating to voice her opinion of those who don't. She's effective, efficient. Never beating around the bush or bothering with anything that it is not needed.
There's an honesty to her voice and it piqued his interest as he gestures for her to continue.
"Too many people take the world for granted and take more than they need. A lot of people don't respect anything anymore either. Hunters kill for the trophy and discard the carcass as if an animal's life serves no purpose."
Ariel's smile turns more grim, a somber undertone lying in her voice as she continues, "Don't misunderstand me. I fully support someone who kills because it's needed. If I had the time to go to hunt for my own meat so I could make use of its hides and furs as well, I would. But as I'm sure you know, a medical worker's work is never done and free time is sacred."
She hasn't finished her salad, but it doesn't stop her from standing with a stretch before grabbing her discarded plate and tossing it. He wonders if she's going to leave him at that. For whatever reason, he seems to be the only one she really bothers talking with. Never dwindling with small talk with the others or going out for drinks when offered. But she never overstays her visit - always leaving briskly when she is done eating despite whatever conversation that they're having or even if they still have time on the clock for their well-needed break.
But he doesn't complain when she doesn't leave this time, settling back down at the table as she leans back in the chair, closing her eyes with a low hum. The action is odd - too deliberate, almost out of character. He can't tell if she's playing him or if the walls that she holds are starting to come down.
"I wonder how much free time you have, Dr. Cullen," she voices lightly, "Considering all the hiking trips that your family takes. Must be a considerate amount considering Alice has offered to take me to Seattle with her - I'm not sure why your daughter is so enamored with me, should I be worried that she's going to whisk me away only for my picture to show up on the back of a milk carton?"
It's a serious question that creates a mild tension in the air as a rock settles in his chest at the realization that as blanche as they've been, bordering on careless, if she really does know what they are, that worry would always be there, wouldn't it? Of being eaten? Taken away? Turned? The realization almost hurts in ways that he wishes that it wouldn't.
"Never."
His answer is honest and heavy, it's stated so firmly that Ariel peeks through a half lidded eye at him, noting the almost sad look in his eyes, and cracks a small smile that helps take away a bit of the growing tension.
"I figured as much," Ariel answers simply, "You're a very good doctor with a very good family, I imagine. Maybe I'll take up her offer for a shopping trip - if anything so I don't get so many spamming messages."
"Don't be so sure," Carlisle offers as their break comes to a close and they make their way back into the hospital, "Alice can be quite insistent."
