"I didn't say anything," said Bonnie, wanting to the play out the conversation longer than necessary.
"Mmm, I'm pretty sure you did, Bon-bon."
The witch propped herself on her elbows, desperately trying to control her racing heart.
"Oh! Ha, I remember."
"Took you long enough."
"You're talking about the pancakes!"
Damon rolled his eyes. "Ha. Ha. Hilarious. We need to talk about what happened before you pull another vanishing act."
"Alright," she sighed. 'You want to talk? We'll talk. But first, I have a question."
"Shoot."
"Why did you act like you couldn't see or hear me?"
"I had you standing on one side of the room and Elena standing on the other. She clearly couldn't see you which means she didn't even see us kiss. What was I supposed to say? I was talking to a very vivid hallucination of your dead best friend who, oh yeah, I just locked lips with?"
"I'm very real, I assure you."
"You say that but then you end up whizzing away to another dimension. And then, you decide to pop back into my life whenever you feel the need to haunt me."
This time, Bonnie rolled her eyes. She didn't enjoy this reunion as much as she had hoped, especially not when assumptions were thrown her way.
"I'm sorry, what?! Did you really just say that I keep coming back of my own accord?"
Bonnie climbed off the bed and crossed her arms accusingly. Damon saw a glint of something in her brown eyes which gave him even more reason to press her for answers: jealousy.
"Yep, that's exactly what I said."
"Oh, you are so full of it. Look, I have no idea why the voodoo Gods pick me up and throw me back into your bedroom every time you're being a crybaby or you're having sex. But I sure as hell don't decide to spend my doomed eternity staring at your naked body every single day."
Damon faux-gasped.
"Stare? You stare?" he emphasised.
"I meant-"
"That is a major gamechanger, witchy."
"I hate you."
"If only you did," spoke a gruff, disappointed voice from behind, "then you wouldn't be stuck here wandering like a lost lamb."
It was Grams, looking less ethereal as when she appeared in the woods from time to time. The dim lighting in Damon's bedroom made her look even more downcast than she felt.
"Grams!"
"Where?" asked Damon.
"He can't communicate with me, child."
"You can't communicate with her," grinned Bonnie, reporting back to the curious vampire.
She was actually glad of this. Grams was prone to revealing things Bonnie already knew but didn't want to admit. Not to herself, at least.
"Darn it," sighed Damon, sinking back into his pillow.
"She sends her love though."
"If by love, you mean she'd rather see me spit-roasted in hellfire while she pulls up a lawn chair, seated next to the devil with a bowl of popcorn to watch me then yes, she's definitely sending her love."
The old woman was unimpressed.
"He's dramatic."
Bonnie agreed. "He's Damon."
