"Le'gante, with an apostrophe in between e and g. Can you guess why?" he asked me again. He always chose words I had trouble pronouncing, so that by the end of about a year, I said those words like a native.

"Uhmm…I think this is…Portuguese?" He shook his head. "Spanish."

"Legante? It reminds me of elegante…which I do believe means elegant…or smart?"

"You make do the family name proud," Mike said, and started to unpack his things in his new room.

Ah, crap. I forgot…he always took the master bedroom if I did not get there first.

I ran as fast as I could to the room, but by the time I got there, Mike had already put away his last shirt.

"Beat you," he told me with a smirk, before leaving outside. He needed to feed, and upon thinking about it, so did I.

I decided that my hunger was not as bad as his was. I did feed before we departed the ship, and my thirst was that of something else. Even then, it was not thirst, more like a seduction towards this Emmalee I had just met some few hours ago.

I sat on the newly acquired couch, one hand on the back of the couch, the other on the side. I looked to the left, wondering if she got home all right.

I heard her leave only a few minutes ago, and though I knew this town was relatively safe, my neediness to inquire grew as I realized she should be my companion of the night.

I mean, it only made sense. She knew French, I could teach her Italian—or on second thought, Mike should teach her. I was a slow learner myself…but on third thought, I was a native Italian. I could teach her slang…and stuff.

I got up from the couch, pushing it back with the suddenness, and made to follow her. I would do it quietly. No need to have her know she was about to have a stalker.

I blended with the darkness, something I've been able to do even since I was human. I finally saw her walking quickly, with purpose: get to her home safely. I could "bump into her,"

"Do you know she's engaged?" I heard Mike tell me. He didn't make me jump. I smelled fresh blood before I could even hear him approach me.

"Is she now?" I asked nonchalantly, though it somewhat bothered me.

"I do believe son, unless that ring is a lie."

I look closely, and almost made an audible retort. "Idiota, that's her right hand. It's traditionally on the left hand."

"Like you said: traditionally," Mike said, not letting my insult bother him. He disappeared as quickly as he appeared, and I stood where I was, watching her get safely behind her gate. Could she really be married?

"I'll find out tomorrow," I said confidently, though noticing I had stood there like an idiot for half the night.

I went to the same whore house Michel went, and tried to ignore the girl who no doubt knew what I was, seeing as how I had the same skin color as Mike.

I finally pushed her off me by saying that once bitten by someone, other people "couldn't touch her." She looked pleased by this, and wondered why Mike chose her.

I finally decided the shy brown-haired woman would do just fine.

She was extremely nervous, so I decided to just take the blood and leave. In her euphoric state, she must have thought something went on between us, but I ignored that and left the room.

Some girls were outside the door. I'm guessing to hear if anything happened. From their big eyes, I'm guessing they did. I smiled, thinking that this would be the last time I would ever go to a whorehouse, even if I were going to die of thirst.

The day was slowly coming, and I could have strolled all the way to the house purposelessly and still make it home in time. After about thirty minutes, I saw her, Emmalee, right in the same instant that she saw me.

She smiled warmly, almost as if she was excited to see me, but quickly regained composure. Surely married women had to do that all the time…

"Good mornin' miss," I said, trying my southern accent, fighting hard to think about each syllable pronunciation.

"Mornin' mister Le'gante," she said coyly. That brought me to grin, and I instinctively rose my eyebrows up as I do whenever someone said something I like. That made her smile even more, her inhibitions leaving her.

One thought kept popping up in my head: She's not married, in that ah-shucks tone.

She continued speaking, trying to keep a conversation going. "Are you going to school?"

I looked at her blankly, wondering why she would say such a horrible and blasphemous thing. School? Me? No, thank you. I continued to look at her blankly, once again looking like an idiot, when I just looked to my left, trying to think of a way out of the situation but still maintain my dignity.

"Well, mornings and I just don't mix," I told her, as if I always considered school, but that was the only thing keeping me. I was glad for that though.

"Well, I teach night school, you could attend then," she said, as if she had the solution to my "unfortunate" problem.

I laugh a little nervously. I was seriously considering that if she was going to be smart, I might not like her. Would I want someone to be smarter than me?

Seeing as how I already wanted her, I could suck it up, drag Mike to this educational institutional facility thing, and try it. If I didn't like it, I could drone out what she was saying, but look at her. That would work.

"Ah, really?" I ask, excitedly, or at least pretending to be.

She smiled, catching the intonation. "Yes, really. That way we—the town—can get to know our new arrivals."

The sun was coming up, and my internal clock was telling me it was time to go nighty night night. Suddenly, I caught a fallacy to my lie: I said I'm not a morning person, yet surely here I was, six in the morning, up and about.

"Well," I said, "Sorry, but my brother got late sea sickness, and I promised to get out of the house so he can do his thing—" (ha, get that) "—but I should be going home. I hardly slept."

"Oh, right, right. So, I'll see you at the school house at seven, right?" Oh, this girl liked me as much as I liked her.

"Definitely," I said, taking one deep look into her eyes, before bowing and walking to the house.

Once more, I barely made it. Mike was already tucking in, getting ready to sleep like the dead we were, and told me tiredly, "I fixed it already. Just sleep. We got school tomorrow. I signed us up."

"We'll argue this tomorrow," I said, though it would just be my required hate towards education.

"I'll win," he said.

Damn. He always wins.

It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Yea, I made Luke a little cocky. But why not? He would have been too shy to do anything about it had she not so obviously shown interest.

Courtly love, eh? (If you don't know what that means...DON'T look it up! It'll ruin the next chapter haha).

Well, I've been writing other stories since I had a huge writer's block for this baby, and it appears I have become more descriptive :O

Well, I hope that is true, so you guys can come close to what I see...I don't know where the sudden descriptiveness came from haha.

One more part, and it'll be just a little flashback to a special moment Luke and Emmalee shared. Then, it'll be Michel's turn to rule the story once more.

Er...wait, no. One more in Luke's perspective in the present, while getting a lift from Kerry, and yea, then it will be back to the God of all vampires, Michel.

Cuzz, I mean, come on...Michel is just naturally better than any other well-known vampire. Yea, he's even better than Edward. I said it. So sue me.

(No, don't really sue me)