A/N I just wanted to point out that, yes, this story will eventually have some ESN. However, it's going to take a while before they get to that point. Sookie's dating Quinn, and she doesn't want to risk her job, and well, let's face it, Eric's kind of broken right now. Enjoy!

EPOV

I stormed out of the office in a complete rage. For the past 5 years I've worked so hard at pushing my anger down far enough so it wouldn't erupt like that. I told myself that I just wouldn't think about them anymore. I just needed to not think about them. Not think about the pain and fear they suffered. Not think about how difficult it was to breathe just knowing they were gone. Damnit Northman, pull your head out and get it together! You have to control yourself.

I made my way back to the area that Quinn had shown me to earlier. At the end of the hallway that housed my bedroom, and shared kitchen and bathroom, was a small courtyard in the middle of the building. I opened the door, and stepped out into the fresh air, and took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I paced back and forth, repeating the words I've been saying to myself every day for the past 5 years. 'You have no emotions.' If I could convince myself that I didn't feel anything, then the pain would be gone.

I sat down at a picnic-style table in the middle of the courtyard. Since it was the beginning of fall, there was a slight chill in the air, but, it was pleasant. I leaned forward and rested my head in my hands, trying to block the pictures of my family from my mind. I don't know how long I sat there, but it was long enough for me to get completely lost in my thoughts and forget my surroundings entirely. I was pulled back to reality by the sound of a throat being cleared. I looked up to see Miss Stackhouse standing on the other side of the table, a large pizza box in one hand, and a six-pack of Dr. Pepper in the other.

"I've made a little tradition of buying my new residents dinner their first night here. Normally, I go all out, but, since you acted so inappropriately before, and stormed out of my office so rudely, I figured pizza and soda was the most you'd deserved."

"I'm sorry; I'm the one who acted inappropriately? You provoked me."

"That's my job, Mr. Northman."

Oh, this was really rich. "Somehow I doubt that the state of Louisiana pays you to provoke people and pick fights."

"No, what they pay me for is to assess how you will react to regular everyday people making light of your situation. If I was just another guy at your bar, and 'provoked' you, as you like to say, like that, would you have just walked away, or would you have hit me? Those are the type of things I need to find out before I decide if I recommend you for release. Now, do you want some pizza or not?"

As much as I wanted to further this little 'discussion,' I had to admit that I was pretty hungry, and, well hell, it's been years since I've had a good pizza. So, I nodded to her, and she sat down across from me. She put the pizza box down and opened it up, and my stomach grumbled loudly as the aroma of pepperoni, sausage, green peppers, olives, onions and green peppers hit me. It was mouth-watering. She handed me a napkin and a cold soda, and put a folder and a pen on the table in front of her.

"Now, since we didn't have the opportunity to finish taking care of some things earlier, we'll have to make this a business dinner." She did this sort of half-laugh thing when she spoke, like she thought very highly of her own sense of humor. I found it to be endearing, but was not about to let her see that.

"And, just why should you be the one asking all the questions? Don't I get to know anything about you?"

"Ya know, other than what hours I'm in my office, ya really don't."

"Well, I wouldn't say that's very fair."

"True. However, I'm not the one on parole for manslaughter."

Touché. "Yes, but, you said that this would work best if I was honest and open with you. I don't know about you, but I was raised to believe that trust and respect are earned, not given freely." She pondered this for a moment while chewing on a piece of pizza.

"Fair enough. I'll tell you what. For every question I ask you, you can ask me one. However, I will only answer personal questions if they pertain to our working relationship." Who did this woman think she was? She was attempting to bull-shit a world class bull-shitter. Fine. This should be fun.

"Alright. But since you got so much information out of me earlier, shouldn't I get to go first?"

"Sure, go ahead," she said, taking another bite of pizza and sipping at her soda.

"How long have you been a halfway house case worker?"

"I have been here at Hope House for the past 6 months. And before that I worked for the same type of facility in Brooklyn for 6 years." Hmmm, interesting. She didn't seem like a New Yorker.

"My turn. While you were in prison, who was running your business for you?"

I guess that hoping she wouldn't ask questions that would make me think about my family was purely wishful thinking. "Pam."

She raised her eyebrows and looked at me, waiting for further information. I didn't give any.

"Okay, and who is Pam?"

"Pam is Cindy's……she's my late wife's twin sister."

"Oh, I see. Identical twins?"

"No, fraternal. My turn. What kind of educational background do you have that makes you qualified for this position?" Why did I suddenly sound like I was interviewing a perspective employee?

"I did a double major in college and received a Bachelor's degree in both Criminal Justice and Sociology from LSU, and then got my Master's in Social Work from NYU." Wow, I had to admit, I was impressed. Not that I'd let her see that.

"Was Pam in business with you before your incarceration?"

"Yes, she was. She's been co-owner of the club since about 9 months after it opened." I was about to move into asking her another question, but she held up to finger, indicating she wanted me to wait for just a moment.

"I have a follow-up question to go with that, so you'll have to wait. After you were incarcerated, did she just assume your responsibilities and add them to hers?"

"More or less, yes. The majority of what she and I had been doing was administrative; however, if we were in a bind, I would also help out with security and bar tending. She did not assume those responsibilities, but hired someone else for it." I really hoped she would move on to a different subject. Talking about Pam just made me think about Cindy. "Why did you move to Shreveport?"

"That's not pertinent."

"Then let me rephrase. When you left your position in New York, why did you choose this particular facility?"

"Well, I grew up not far from here. When I left my job in New York, I came here for personal reasons because I had family here. Sam, Merlotte, the Director of Hope House, was a good friend of mine growing up. As soon as he knew I was going to be in town, he made all sorts of arrangements to help me choose to stay."

"When you say 'administrative duties' about your club, what exactly does that mean? Could you give me a few specific examples?"

"Well, I would handle payroll, accounting, marketing and advertising, and all human resources issues."

She held up her hand again before I had a chance to ask her another question. "Now, is that something that you could do during the day, or would it require for you to be away after lock-down?"

"Well, the club doesn't open until 9pm most nights, but, I could get the majority of things done during the day, and just have Pam finish up for me later after the other employees arrive."

She nodded her head and made a few notes while continuing to nibble on her pizza, and sip her soda. I had never seen a woman make such a dainty little meal out of food like this.

"My turn again?" She nodded and continued writing.

"Are you married?" Her pen immediately froze, and she looked at me with pure annoyance in her eyes.

"That is not pertinent."

"I beg to differ. If you would like for me to be able to open up to you about the loss of my wife and children, I would like to know if you are married and have any children yourself." She seemed to consider this for a moment.

"No husband, no kids." She looked back down and resumed writing.

Even though we hadn't covered much information, we had been sitting there eating and talking for around two hours. I was just about to ask her another question, when Quinn came into the courtyard.

"Babe, I'm ready to do room check whenever you are." Babe, huh? Did this mean they were an item? I couldn't see what someone was obviously intelligent as Miss Stackhouse would be doing with a mindless drone like Quinn.

"Yup, just let me drop this file off at my office." She turned her gaze from her paperwork to me. "I'm one of the two on-duty case workers tonight, so I have to go around with security for the room check to make sure everyone is accounted for. For the remainder of the evening, I'll most likely either be in my office or down at the security desk. If you need anything, just let me know, okay." She stood to leave, and as she turned to walk away, she placed her hand on my shoulder, and two of her fingers lay against the bare flesh of my neck. "I'm hoping that I can be of some help to you, Eric. Please, let me know if you need anything."

As she and Quinn walked away, I wondered whether or not I was the only one who felt a little shock when her fingers touched me. Yeah, probably. I mean, she's fairly attractive, so chances are if she's not with Quinn, she's with someone. Plus, I'm the one who hasn't had any pleasant physical contact with a woman in almost 6 years. It had to have just been that I'm fucking horny.