A/N: There's really no excuse for me to be such a rubbish updater. My life has become genuinely complicated – more than exams and schoolwork and I've had a lot of writer's block, I've found a way to fight it though and I've got a lot more inspiration for this. I'm not going to promise more frequent updates because you know by now how often I promise more frequent updates and never give them, but I really am trying.

Humans confused Larten. Well, more specifically, teenage human girls confused him. If he wanted to be precise, Monica Mastrelli confused him.

When she had approached him, asking to join the Cirque, he had assumed her to be bold, stubborn and perhaps even cocky. He even vaguely expected her to roll her eyes at his teachings about vampire life, so he was shocked at her attitude for the week after he had dug her up.

The first night was unsurprising, she had sobbed and he had left her to it with an awkward pat on the shoulder, deciding to leave her to her thoughts and grieving rather than try to comfort her and upset her more – it was something a lot of vampires went through. True, not many were quite as young as her – or female, but in the clan men and women were treated the same, it would not to do baby her. After all, Seba had not wrapped him in bubble wrap, but he doubted he could bring himself to punish the small girl the way his mentor had punished him as a cub.

What had shocked Larten was the girl's silence. It was not a fearful silence, an angry one or even a stubborn one...he didn't quite know what kind of silence it was. Perhaps a sad one? Either way, it surprised him. She never seemed to speak unnecessarily; she answered his questions softly, listened to him silently and only seemed to ask things that she needed to know. She didn't even complain about feeding – though she had paled and wretched afterwards.

Her face was usually stoic; the only emotion he noticed from her was slight interest or confusion during the "lessons" or her quiet sniffling when she thought he was sleeping. Usually when she wasn't doing her "duty" as an assistant, she had her nose buried in a book from her bag or she was drawing in the corner.

At first he had taken it as a silent resentment towards him, which he countered with slight annoyance, after that, it confused him and finally he decided to leave her to it. If she wanted to speak, she would, he wasn't going to complain about her obedience, he had expected to be dealing with a rowdy cub, so in a way, he was grateful.

~ Monica ~

I picked at the small hole, already forming in my new jeans. Within two nights I'd managed to stumble in the heels countless times and ladder the tights, so whilst Mr Crepsley was sleeping one day, I went out and bought some jeans along with a baggy black t-shirt and some boots. I still kept the ring on.

I wasn't sure what to make of my "new life". It was very, very different to my old one, that much was obvious. In my lessons with Mr Crepsley, I'd learnt that strength and physical triumphs were practically the core of what vampires were about and that things such as reading, writing, music and art weren't cared for. This disappointed me – I was the least sporty person I knew, the only sports I'd ever really enjoyed were running and swimming and I was far from strong.

One thing I found easy about my new life was the cooking. It was strange not having a cooker, but I adapted and was happy that I had at least one part of it down. I just didn't know if I could handle how harsh the lifestyle was. They fought with bears to prove their strength, for Christ's sake! But I bit my tongue, not sure if he was easily angered or not.

For the first week or so, it was mainly silence unless I was being taught, asking questions or being asked to do something.

I wasn't even sure why I was being silent, to be totally honest. At first I was upset, so I was grateful that my mentor left me alone for the first night. I was still sad, of course. Devastated, even, but that wasn't why I wasn't talking. I just felt as though there was nothing to say. Like, if it wasn't necessary then it wasn't worth it. I don't know, perhaps I was wary of my teacher – shy? I just felt dull.

Since the original deal had been for me to join the Cirque, that was our destination, but Mr Crepsley had to mentally "locate" it first (I'd never quite understood how that worked). It didn't take too long, and with Mr Crepsley's ability to flit, we'd be there within days.

I was nervous though – very nervous. What if they didn't like me? What if there weren't any jobs for me? What if I couldn't do my job well enough? Would they kick me out? Would it get Mr Crepsley in trouble? All of these questions raced through my mind almost constantly to the point where I was a nervous wreck walking up to the site where Mr Crepsley said the camp was. I felt ill and I stared at my boots as I walked.

"Monica?" I was snapped out of my thoughts, making me jump.

"Oh, what, yeah, sorry," I mumbled quickly, avoiding his gaze.

"What is wrong?" he spoke slowly, stopping in his tracks.

"Nothing! No, I, erm, just zoned out, sorry," I stumbled over half of my words, still staring at my boots.

He stayed completely still and I glanced up and then away again, he was watching me carefully – analytically. It was like that for a few more moments before he spoke again.

"A cruel word will never be spoken to, or about you, at the Cirque, Monica. Everybody is welcome."

It was obvious he felt awkward saying it, but his tone was sincere. The words brought me a small amount of comfort, but did nothing to help my nerves. I nodded and thanked him quietly, anyways and we continued on our way. By the time the tents and trailers came into view, I felt sick. I trailed behind him, focusing on my breathing and trying to stop myself gasping for air. Thankfully, I managed to compose myself before we got to our destination – Mr Tall's trailer.

The meeting was surprisingly brief, with no doubts about whether I could join The Cirque – the fact that I was Mr Crepsley's assistant seemed to make it a no-brainer. The main question was what jobs I could do and where I would sleep. Mr Crepsley made it clear that I was welcome to stay in his van but suggested that I'd be more comfortable with a woman.

"Perhaps Truska," Mr Tall suggested.

"I'd hate to, erm, impose on anybody," I said quietly, biting my lip "she wouldn't mind, would she?"

"Truska has a maternal instinct," Mr Tall explained briefly "I highly doubt she'd mind at all."

Then it was the decision of what job I would do.

"Can you cook?"

"Erm, yeah," I gave a small nod.

"For a lot of people?"

"Like…ten?"

"One or two hundred."

"No, sorry…"

"Can you mend clothes?"

"I can sew, yeah."

"Excellent, Truska could teach you the fundamentals of mending!"

And with that it was decided. Mr Crepsley left to go to his coffin – the sun was about to rise, whilst Mr Tall led me across the camp to where Truska stayed, saying he'd have to explain it to her himself. I soon realized why as I watched him and the (currently beardless) bearded lady barking at eachother for a few minutes. All I could do was stand, nervously shifting my weight from foot to foot and hope for the best. Eventually the barking died down and I looked up from my boots to see her smiling warmly at me.

She took hold of my arm and led me into her van, jabbering excitedly in her language, grinning. I gave a small laugh, slowly finding myself becoming more comfortable in the Cirque.

A couple of weeks later, I trudged through the camp, a bag of fabrics for Truska in hand. I'd almost gotten to the van when a familiar guitar piece met my ears. I picked up my pace, quickly dropped off the bag and made my way towards where the music was coming from. I eventually found it on the outskirts of the camp.

He was 18 at most with skin which was neither dark or light, he had long, straight jet black hair. I couldn't tell how long though because of the way he was lying in the grass. I watched him quietly for a few moments before speaking up.

"That's patience."

He looked up, confused for a second before his eyes met mine and he gave a smile, putting the beat up guitar down.

"So you do talk," his tone was teasing, but far from mean.

I blushed and gave a small smile "Only sometimes."

"You're a Guns N' Roses fan, then?"

"Love them," I nodded.

Beppe had been a fanatic – constantly attempting their songs on his own guitar, he hadn't been as good as this guy, though. I shook the thoughts away, I'd only get upset. I twisted the ring that sat on my right hand.

"Well, that makes us best friends," he grinned and patted the patch of grass to his right "Sit down."

I hesitated slightly before sitting.

"Any requests?" he wriggled his eyebrows, strumming a few random chords.

"What songs do you know?"

"Challenge me," he shrugged.

"Surprise me," I responded simply.

"Oh, so you're spontaneous," he nodded.

"Oh, so you're a detective?"

"I'm a….curious observer, part time admirer," he shrugged simply.

I bit my lip, not quite knowing what to say.

"You're a vampire?"

"Half," I gestured to the sun, still burning brightly in the sky.

"Oh, stupid question," he gave a small laugh.

"It's fine," I gave a small smile, beginning to realise this was a potential friendship.

He smiled back and then began to strum out a rhythm and sang softly – I was surprised at how good he was.

The days rolled by surprisingly fast after the first meeting with the boy – Jack. The next day once I'd finished my work I took a walk and heard the guitar again, I was warmly greeted by him once more. This continued until eventually I just went there every day – even when we changed location I'd just follow the sound of the guitar.

I fell into a comfortable routine at the Cirque. I'd wake up early, work, find Jack and sit with him for hours – usually going to the centre of camp to get dinner with him, too, have a lesson with Mr Crepsley and go to bed. The routine was good but I found myself only being truly comfortable with Jack and Truska.

I wasn't sure how I was supposed to act around Mr Crepsley. I didn't hate him – it would be stupid to, I had wanted to join the Cirque and practically forced his hand in it – I was grateful if anything, but I found myself vaguely intimidated by the mysterious, quite attractive vampire. I did as he asked, when he asked it, but seeing as we were at the Cirque, there wasn't much for me to do.

I resolved to treat him like I'd treat a teacher at school – seeing as he was my mentor. I was strangely disappointed with the decision, but I didn't want to seem disrespectful if I was too informal.

I didn't know where I'd be without Truska through all of it. The language barrier was a small issue after a few weeks. She'd had a coffin put in her van for me and filled it with blankets and pillows, refusing to let me sleep just on the wood. She'd even made a purple nightdress for me, even though I'd insisted I'd be fine in my clothes. I felt guilty for thinking it, but she was often more motherly towards me than my own mum ever was.