Claire's POV

Somehow, Claire managed to stop staring at Myrnin as though he had turned into a puppy. He wanted her to turn. When did that happen? They had been working on a way to give Frank - the brain within the machine Morganville was so dependant on - the ability to project himself into real flesh and blood.

As a synthetic humanoid, Frank would exist only in the small perimeters of the portals. The science behind it was out of Claire's league but Myrnin, who was her boss, got a thrill out of teaching her the odd formula or two. He was very entusiatic about it all. Passionate, even.

Anyway, this new update for Frank would make everything so much easier. Claire could talk to him face-to-face again, which she needed; especially since she wanted some advice about how to handle an angry Shane. Should they ever cross paths...

"Claire," Amelie said before her inner monologue could finish the ugly trail of that thought; "Oliver - as my consort - has made several claims that you and your friends are a danger to this town."

Claire's mouth drooped open. Me? Dangerous! Pah. She was only eighteen, and barely. These vampires had hundreds of years on her. Oliver could not possibly be threatened by her.

She noticed Myrnin hadn't said anything since Amelie discussed the process of turning into a vampire, when he had a lot to say on that subject, evidently. His lean and elegant figure clothed in his usual Victorian style top and legging-like trousers as he lounged against Amelie's desk. Oh. He was also wearing his bunny slippers. Can't the bunny slippers, of course. He was weirdly beautiful, tainted with his absolutely undeniable craziness.

Amelie's talk had disturbed her, causing all previous traces of Myrnin's ideas and plans to vanish. Claire worried for her friends. If Oliver thought they could be a problem, he would terminate them. Like all of this other problems.

Eve and Shane probably didn't want to ever see her again. Poor Michael was most likely still crying inside. No, they wouldn't miss little Claire if Oliver terminated her. Amelie's gaze suddenly penetrated her face very sternly then. Oops, she was waiting yet Claire hadn't said anything.

"D-Danger... then why are you allowing me to turn?"She asked around coughs, at a pathetic attempt to fill the awkward silence.

"I need your knowledge of the machine. Its accessibility is the key to the continuity of Morganville. Especially since Myrnin here is slowly fading." The vampire replied nervelessly.

"So this has nothing to do with -" Claire shot a side glance at her vampire boss, whom she noted was watching her intently. His feelings for Claire were becoming more and more obvious by the day.

"- with our earlier discussion?" Amelie saved her from mortal embarrassment. If Myrnin were to realise Shane had separated from her, he would probably try something. Especially now they were so close...

Amelie continued, a shade of a smile on her pale face: "No, it is not. However your predicament does offer me a very opportune excuse to secure the machine forever."

"As in, no one will care that I would be basically dead. No offence," Claire rapidly added, trying to be at least well-mannered for the very old, very moody vampires. The elder of the two, Amelie, got up from behind her ornate desk. She began pacing, looking as though she had returned to her normal, Oliver hating, self. Despite the little mention of him possessing the consort job. Eww.

"Let us further discuss your future restrictions."

Some time later..

Once Amelie had dismissed Myrnin and Claire in her usual authoritative way, they took a portal to the lab.

The familiar tingling ice sensation ran its cool fingers along her bare skin as she stepped into the darkness of some unknown physics. Myrnin gasped from behind her. The feeling was different yet euphoric every time.

A light appeared before Claire's eyes almost simultaneously and she walked to her usual spot on a rotting wooden desk chair. She stopped, and looked around. The lab as clean as it could possible. An impossible feat considering it's habitant was a bipolar vampire. Speaking of, that said vampire stepped out of the closing portal.

Myrnin had a ridiculously amused look on his face.

"Myr," Claire growled with a stern look on her face, "what aren't you telling me?" He jumped up and down on the spot, looking like a Cheshire cat on a high. Myrnin shook his jet black hair of head at her, before running off to rumble around in dome deep and scary cupboard where Bob the Spider had taken up unauthorised residence. Unauthorised by Claire, of course. That damn spider gave her the shivers.

"Here!" The crouched vampire exclaimed from the other side of the industrially lit lab. He held up some drawings and pictures... of himself. Claire raised an eyebrow as he strode with long steps, back to where she sat. She looked at the pictures for a second. Some were hand-drawn by artists. Others were obviously self-portraits because they were extremely bias; Myrnin had drawn his eyes larger than life and his nose a lot shorter.

Claire noticed a pattern, however. Each were from a different angle of his profile, and each were blurring into one another...

"I don't get it, Myr. I'm t-t-," Claire yawned widely, "tired. Haven't slept in days." It was true. Now she had stopped doing; she could feel the need hours of kip in her body. Myrnin looked like he was about to argue but Claire started to slip off her chair, so she didn't really get to see how he reacted.

The last thing she could remember was Myrnin talking to himself. Literally, himself. There were two of him. Well, she thought amused, that explained his weird mood swings. Claire could hear the real Myrnin - the one who now carried her in a fireman's lift towards his bedroom - tell the other Myrnin to delete the files and go back to 'his' original form.

Claire's eyes drooped some more as she swung from side to side with Myrnin's back. Her eyes began to close. But not before she saw the other Myrnin become Frank Collins.

What in hell...

She collapsed asleep just as Myrnin left the lab and entered his room.