Don't own it, never will. A pity; but I'm resigned to my horrid fate as simply a fan and not an actual writer...
"Sam," Gemma said with an indulgent smile as she twirled her amber necklace- now ancient and with a new chain- around her fingers, whipping it in a blurring circle with a shimmering orange-yellow ring around the edge. "What's up?"
"Brady's been getting a bit... too much lately," her human friend told her almost reluctantly over the connection. "I was wondering if I could come over and study a bit at your place?"
Her smile grew. 'Brady' was a partier, and while Sam was trying to get him away from all of the drugs, it wasn't working. Even he was about ready to give up on his 'friend'. "Of course you can. You know you're pretty much my only friend here, right? Of course I'd make some time for you. Brady's okay, but we've never really gotten along."
"I noticed," he replied dryly. "You have intense glaring matches whenever you're in the same room. Is there a reason for that? He won't tell me anything."
"Brady's a territorial bastard," she explained frankly. "He doesn't like me because he didn't choose to let me be friends with you. You did."
"Huh. Really?" Oh, Sam was confused. She could practically see his scrunched-up face.
"Really," she commented as she rolled off of her long black couch and walked into the kitchen. "Hey, pick me up a pack of smokes on your way. I'm on my last two."
"...You'll pay me back, right? Those things are expensive, and you know how I feel about you using them."
"When have I ever broken my word, Sammy?" she asked in a mock-wounded tone. "Don't make such cruel accusations!"
"...Uh-huh. I'll be over in half an hour. And don't call me Sammy."
"See you soon," she sung, and hung up the phone, smirking. 'Brady' didn't even know why he didn't like her. He could only tell that she wasn't human, and with no proof he couldn't tell Sam anything, because if he did Sam would wonder how he knew, what he'd seen, and if he didn't have a good reason he would be revealed. They had a nice little contest going on.
After the first year Gemma had firmly decided she hated the crowded dorms, and had weasled enough money out of Balthazar to set herself up in a nice little townhouse. Finally she had privacy, room to herself, and she could entertain Sam- and occasionally Brady when the human brought him over- without her roommate barging in. Her roommate, an insane woman by the name of Becky. Somehow the girl was human; she acted more like a damned Harpy.
Gemma got out the tub of Neapolitan ice cream and scooped a ridiculous- for anybody else- portion into a plain ceramic bowl. She liked the fancy cut-glass things Balthazar had in his manor, but ceramic was mostly fire-proof. It wouldn't melt like glass would if she let loose and blew up the building. Which, unfortunately, had happened once before in a hotel in Rome. Her Angel had been pissed at her for a couple years for all the effort he had had to put into making sure that the 'incident' didn't attract attention.
She padded out of the kitchen and walked over to the wonderful invention called a radio/CD player. Music, on instant demand, that could be lowered or raised in volume at will? She loved it.
Slipping in her favorite Two Door Cinema Club CD, Gemma smiled as the familiar music started to play. Sam complained about her taste in music, but she usually shut him out by turning the volume higher. Gemma hummed in satisfaction as the strawberry/vanilla/chocolate flavors melted on her tongue, and mentally blessed the people who had invented electronics and ice cream.
Her ears picked up the sound of a key unlocking the door, and she turned, offering Sam a ice-cream-y grin as he stepped inside and had to duck his head to get under the arch of the door. "You have a tiny doorframe," he told her as he plopped down in one of the cushy chairs by her coffee table and swung his book-filled backpack onto said glass surface.
"You're just too tall," she stuck her tongue out, and paused the music before striding over and holding out her hand. "Give."
Sam rolled his eyes and dug into his pocket, pulling out her favorite brand of cigarettes and slapping them against her palm. "Now pay me back," he said sternly.
"Yeah, yeah, hang on," Gemma groused as she poked around her wallet and handed him a few ones and a five. "Prices are skyrocketing," she complained as she sagged back into the chair next to his and flicked open a custom matte-black lighter, using it to light the cigarette and then simply watched the tiny yellow flame dance as she inhaled and exhaled. "Honestly, how bad's Brady been?" she asked, rolling her head to the side and seeing that Sam had been looking at her curiously.
"Why are you so fascinated by fire?" he returned, and she froze.
Well, she wasn't sure why she was surprised. Sam could pick on things faster than any other human, she had learned; why he had even taken this long to ask that particular question actually shocked her. Smiling weakly, she snapped the lighter shut and dropped it into her pocket. "It's... pretty," she said lamely. "And dangerous."
By the slight narrowing of his eyes she could tell he knew she was lying, but luckily- bless him- he let it go. For now. She had no doubt he'd bring it up again some other time. "...Not good," he sighed in response to her first question, and flopped back his head to stare tiredly at the ceiling. "He's getting worse; using more drugs and I'm debating telling one of the councillors."
Gemma curled up in her chair, and quietly puffed on her cigarette. "You know that won't help," she mumbled out around it sympathetically. "He'd find some other way to get them if his sources were lost, and none of the supervisors will be able to understand why he's doing it."
"And you do?" Sam snarked, looking over at her.
"Do you?" she snapped back irritably. "Of course I don't. Brady's a piece of work, Sam; you know I don't like him and he feels the same about me." Gemma flipped open her lighter again, and the little flickering flame flared bright gold and blue for a split second before returning to normal.
"What was that?" her friend asked with widened eyes, and she forced a shrug.
"Don't know. A fluke with the gas, maybe?" she offered, and closed and restarted the flame. The color change didn't happen again, which she was grateful for. It had been awhile since she'd had a lapse in control, but it still happened sometimes when she got overly emotional. Unfortunately.
"...Yeah," Sam said slowly. "Probably."
Damn. Damn all overly-observant instinctually-predatorial Hunter-traits to Hell and back. Sam was like a brother to her- though she had never had one, so she assumed those were her feelings toward him because they definitely weren't sexual- but sometimes he picked up on things a bit too easily. "So," she said to distract him. "Regale me with some tales of your grand college exploits before you have to buckle down and study."
The candle-sized flame danced above the lighter as Gemma watched its antics and listened to Sam as the human started to talk with a smile in his voice.
About an hour later Sam settled down, got out his laptop and books, and started to work. Gemma moved to the other side of the room, and simply listened to her music- though much quieter- and watched the miniature fire. She didn't need to study, not really; this wasn't her first time going to college and it likely wouldn't be the last. She already knew most, if not all, of the course material.
A few times Sam frowned slightly and dashed his eyes up to look at her before shaking his head and going back to typing. Idly she wondered what he was doing that involved watching her, but didn't really care. She mostly trusted him, though it was impossible to entirely seeing as he didn't know about her being non-human. Besides, it wasn't like he could kill her even if he did decide she was a monster after he found out- because he would eventually, when someone doesn't age at all it tends to attract attention.
Even though iron hurt like a bitch. There was a reason she only had stainless steel appliances and trappings in her house. It stung, burned her skin like holy water on a demon. Not a pleasant sensation by any means even though it healed rather quickly.