"So should I pretend I didn't hear any of that, or are you going to tell me so that when you crash into something, I'll at least die knowing why?" Astarion inquired after a moment of silence.

My knuckles were white as I gripped the steering wheel, speeding past cars to return to the city. How dare these people try to take what I've spent so many months working on with Jesse, Harley, and Alex? What is it with bigheaded stakeholders that live to make everyone's lives miserable?!

We'd accomplished so many sequences. We were writing a lot of character-developing scenes, so it was the best stuff to write. The work that kept me going, so to speak. I was going to have to suck up to those pricks at the party, or at least intimidate them that cutting our stuff would lead to bad reviews.

Cutting our scenes meant taking shortcuts later to explain entire character arcs and storylines. Our audiences weren't that stupid, they'd notice it. How hard was it to convince the stakeholders-

"Ahem?" Astarion was looking at me, expectantly.

I only slowed down slightly, trying not to see red as I replied, "We have to get back to the city so I can figure out the best strategy to convince these assholes not to be assholes."

With a huffing sound, he looked ahead at the road and then commented, "Well, in my experience, dull-minded people often continue their ways, despite efforts to sway them. Perhaps you could find a way to just get rid of them, permanently?" He wasn't joking. I entertained the thought, but I wasn't experienced in murder.

"Worse, I have to talk to them. Persuade them." I spat through gritted teeth. Sarge poked his head between us and looked at me questioningly. Angry?

I gave him a swift ear scratch to let him know everything was fine, and he returned to taking a nap. Astarion eyed the single hand on the wheel as we continued onto an exit into the city.

Sounding intrigued, he questioned, "And how are you going to go about that? You already sound like you hate them with a passion."

"I don't hate them, but they're preventing me from my goals. I was hoping to focus on one thing at that party: Augustine's job." And now, I'd have to forego this just to keep all my past months' work from disappearing.

"What do you mean?" The vampire watched cars pass as we neared the edges of the city His eyes seemed to bounce from every object: the cars, the trash in the bike lanes, tall buildings, graffiti marks, and construction cones dotting some of the exit offramps. He reminded me of a child in wonder, and I couldn't tell if he was disgusted or fascinated with some of the facial expressions he was making.

"Augustine is my boss. She's looking for a replacement, and I want to replace her. But she's a hardass. I feel like whenever I talk to her, she's always trying to brush me off. I can't tell if it's because she doesn't like me, or if she's always distracted." Memories of the last remote call I had with her made my jaw tighten.

At the time, we were facing nearly impossible deadlines. We had two weeks to finish all of the tutorial scripting and writing. She had approved our final scenes, but every step of the way, the criticism was hellfire. Every line, she had an inquiry about. She was detailed, and harsh, and never thanked us for the work, as the deadline crunch was entirely the executive's fault.

I tried not to take it personally. Because of her, our content was better. But the thought of speaking to her in a non-professional setting, about her job nonetheless, was nerve-racking beyond compare. Not to mention, I wasn't always keen on social events.

They made me feel lonely, for some reason. For the first few minutes, it was sometimes fun, especially if I was drinking with the crew. But it didn't take long for something to settle within me, like a ball of baked clay. Unmoveable. No longer shape-able. As if I'd waited too long and now it was rock hard. And then I wanted to flee.

Other times, I froze, and it felt like I wanted to run away. People moving around, or in crowded spaces caused this reaction in me more often, especially with more strangers. If there was too much sound, hell, I'd probably dip much sooner than everyone else.

I know, I sounded so pathetic. But I wasn't sure when it had started or why. It felt like I was a skittish monster that should be kept under a blanket in the dark.

Which, didn't sound so bad.

Astarion was thoughtful for a moment, then said, "Well, if it's persuasion and character you lack, then maybe I could provide some expertise in that area."

Huh.

"What do you mean? Like…teach me?" I asked.

"Well, I could certainly try that. But it might be easier if you just, oh I don't know, bring me along with you." A sly grin spread on his face as he looked for approval.

An image flashed in my mind.

It's Halloween. I introduce Astarion to my co-workers. They smile. Astarion and I corner the stakeholders on the balcony of the venue, the city twinkling in the October darkness. Astarion eats them. I toss their bodies off the balcony.

"Um, I…are you sure you want to do that?"

Astarion gave me a look.

"What?" I asked.

"Nobody's ever asked me if I was sure if I wanted to do something. Being a vampire spawn and all rarely meant I had a choice. It takes getting used to if I'm being honest." He admitted, then continued, "But, yes, it's not like I haven't been to a social gathering for the sake of some ulterior motivation. Baldur's Gate is full of those sorts of happenings."

Right, vampire spawn. Probably a slave to many social interactions.

"If you want to come with me, then, I guess that's fine. But," I looked over at his blood-stained shirt and dirty pants.

"We need to stop and find you some clothes first." Trying to hide a chuckle, I turned left, away from the direction of the apartments. The only good thing that came out of my relationship with Dalton was the knowledge of men's clothing stores. Or at least, stores where we both could be entertained.

Astarion looked down at himself with disgust. "Yes. I suppose being transported to another world and trying not to kill degenerates in this city is a good distraction for my horrendous appearance."

I managed to park on the street, the Monday city traffic low at 11:20 am. The rain had stopped. Astarion paused before getting out of the car.

"So, I don't have the right currency on me, nor the amount you'd probably need. I apologize in advance, as I have no way of making up for it until I find a way back to Toril." Without looking at me directly, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Astarion, we're friends, remember?" I started, smiling at him sincerely, "Friends don't owe each other anything. And besides," I reached over and felt his shirt collar, my hand inches from his cheek. He froze, looking at me with questioning, but gentle eyes, "It's the least I can do since you killed a bear and cured a burning hand."

Astarion grinned.

I asked, "What was that stuff, by the way? It smelled like mangoes, one of my favorite fruits."

Astarion pulled out the bottle, moving it between his fingers as he replied, "It's a healing potion. It's usually ingested, but since you were hurt, I figured I'd try a contact method of application. I didn't think I'd be able to convince you to drink it, given how you were…looking at me." Astarion looked away briefly.

I felt the need to apologize, but I didn't want to linger on this. "Right. Well, it did work wonders, like you said. So, let me buy you stuff."

Astarion closed his eyes briefly and nodded, replying, "Fine. But once this is all over, let me repay you. It's the least I can do."

A pang of sadness hit me like a wave. 'Once this is all over'. It felt like we were just starting. Was he already thinking about leaving? I supposed it made sense. If I was teleported to another universe, I'd be thinking about leaving the moment I stepped foot onto new territory. I couldn't blame him. I shouldn't.

And what, did I think this would all work out in the end? That he'd stay forever and we'd be happy friends forever? No. (I thought we'd be more than fr-)

"If you insist. But for now, let me just buy this stuff for you. No one should have to suffer being dropped into a new work without the decency of being in comfortable clothes. And you've spent this whole trip being soaked, so…yeah." Before he could protest, I opened my door and stepped out.

The storefront was a brightly lit modern, but non-athletic kind of store. It was rarely crowded but had all types of clothing for anyone looking to overthrow their wardrobe.

Astarion got out of the car and was immediately greeted with looks from people walking by. Ignoring them, I said to him, "You know what would be funny?"

I could tell he was trying to ignore them too as he shut the door and we walked into the store and responded, "What?"

"You could dress up as Dracula," I said.

Astarion gazed down at me, confused. "Dracula," I clarified, "is a common mythical being here on Earth. He's a vampire." It occurred to me that this might be more insulting to Astarion than funny, but luckily, he grinned and said, "Well, it would help explain why I'll be more attractive than everyone else there."

I rolled my eyes and guided us to the men's section. Most of the stuff here was very contemporary with a hint of functional grunge. But there were formal clothes upstairs if he felt like copy-and-pasting his look. And, there were plenty of rain jackets.

I nodded towards the clothes. Astarion just looked ahead, critical eyes scanning the racks and shelves. "But, you don't have to dress up. There's usually some people that do, and others that don't," I explained.

"What do you mean by 'dress up'? I thought the Dracula thing was a joke. Is it not?" Astarion looked down at me again. I realized how tall he was when standing this close to him. I tried not to crane my neck like a kid when I looked at him. Those maroon eyes.

"No, it's for Halloween, which is a holiday where people dress up as anything they want, usually in costumes." I clarified and began wandering through the clothing racks, hoping Astarion would find something that caught his eye along the way, instead of making my insides churn from his gaze.

"Oh. So that's why everyone thought I was wearing a costume. Is it happening right now?"

Ignoring the fact that the holiday wasn't the reason, but his abnormal physical appearance, I said, "No, it's only one day of the month. But my work always hosts it way earlier. So everyone can get much more drunk on the actual holiday."

Astarion stopped and eyed a pair of dark pants. But he didn't touch them. Instead, he asked, "And what do you normally dress up as? Are you one who enjoys parading around in a scandalous nature?" He smiled at me jokingly.

"Guess you'll find out." I teased.

Astarion's grin widened. But he turned his attention back to the pants. He reached out and ran his fingers across the fabric. They were black jeans.

"These will suffice. At least, I think." Pulling them off the shelf, he held them up as if they were a specimen to be dangled outwards, his arm extended.

I raised an eyebrow. "Have you never gone clothes shopping before? Please tell me that's a thing in Faerun."

Astarion grimaced. "It is, but it's not as…simple as this, I guess? I typically just wore whatever Cazador wanted. Or, after I started traveling with Gale and the others, I wore what I found of people we defeated. Or killed." He didn't try to hide what he said but he glanced at me.

Somehow, this felt reasonable. In a world full of monsters and potions, it made sense there was little investment in what one wore.

Astarion continued, "The royal or immensely wealthy of course, chose what they wore with great care. Style isn't as high of a priority for many, where I come from." He finished, turning the pants over in his hands.

"Hm. So what do your friends wear?"

Astarion paused, either picturing or remembering something. "Well, their clothing was more functional, than anything. Shadowheart-"

"Shadowheart? That's a name someone has?" I interrupted, my jaw dropping. No way there was a human being (or, vampire, or whatever) that was named Shadowheart.

I contemplated renaming Sarge to that.

Astarion continued, slightly annoyed, "Yes. Her name is Shadowheart. Anyways," he draped the pants on his forearm and continued walking around, taking the lead as he explained, "Shadowheart wears armor. Armor is a tradition for some, and a necessity for others." He stopped, peering at a casual, dark grey flannel shirt. "Lae'zel wears Githyanki armor, the kind of her people. You'd lose a hand trying to take it off her, or rather, a tongue, should you suggest such a thing."

Githyanki. Shadowheart. Armor. This was starting to sound like a fantasy game.

I wondered if I would wear armor.

"Are all of your friends vampires and fighters?" I asked.

Astarion thought for a moment, then laughed to himself. With a tone of longing, he said, "Fighters, yes. Vampires? No. Just me. But my other 'siblings' are in Baldur's Gate, a big city where I used to…work for Cazador." Astarion grimaced.

Then, he snarled, mostly to himself, "Why does everything always come back to Cazador? Even in another material plane, I cannot escape his grasp." A tinge of deep sadness made him look down briefly. But he tried to hide it by grinning at me and pointing to the shirt.

Jokingly, he asked, "Do you think this matches my eyes?"

I frowned. "Are you scared that he'll find you, even universes away? Because I can tell you right now, for all this world's crap that we've developed, we haven't figured out universal teleportation, so I doubt he has, or ever will." I hoped talking about this wouldn't upset Astarion further. Wouldn't want to spoil my shopping spree with a vampire.

He made another grimace but didn't shy away from my question. "In truth, yes. I'm…always going to be scared until he's dead. Properly dead. But I know that I'd have a chance against him with my friends in Fareun. I'm no longer just a spawn, given this tadpole."

Right. The tadpole. That will gradually turn him into something very much not-Astarion. I decided to ignore that problem, as I do with most of my problems in life.

"Well, if he decides to come to Seattle, I'll run him over and Sarge will eat him. He wouldn't stand a chance against the rent here, either." I joked. Astarion smiled, his genuine grin revealing his fangs that no longer scared me.

Instead, they had quite the opposite effect. Curiosity. Curiosity for what they felt like against my skin-

"Well, that is kind of you to say. Shall we go?" He held up the pants.

Part of me was jealous of his friends. I wished I were that powerful so he felt he could rely on me, and not just my driving skills, which was really the car doing the work if I had to run someone over. I wanted to wear armor if it meant I could help protect him from the spine-shuddering evil capital-V vampire.

I looked from the pants to Astarion's serious face. "No. You need to try those on. And you need like, way more than one pair of pants." I looked down at his muddy leather boots, which, I hadn't noticed before since I spent so much goddamn time looking up at him.

Astarion looked at his shirt. "It's just dried blood. Do I really-"

"Yes. Just -" I pulled a dark cotton pre-shrunk sweater off the rack, and handed it to him, insisting, "Try this on." It was soft and meant for style. Astarion held it out like it was diseased but I continued, "It's not that bad. Plus you can wear it for anything."

He gazed from the sweatshirt to me, with disbelief, "Even to a Halloween party?"

I shrugged. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there. Just try those on."

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"I mean, you take off your clothes and try-"

"I know what the literal words you're saying mean, but just," he turned his head a few times, "out here?"

"No. Over there," I pointed to the fitting rooms, "you just walk over, show that lady your stuff then try them on in private. There's mirrors and everything." I smiled at him.

Astarion scoffed. "Fine. But if someone tries anything funny," he made a face, "then they're going to regret it."

"I bet. Now go change before someone asks you what you had for dinner, and why it was blood." I urged. Astarion gave me a disapproving look before walking towards the fitting rooms. I watched him say something to the woman, who was on her phone. She nodded without a second glance, and then Astarion walked in.

While he was doing that, I figured we didn't want to be here all day, so I walked upstairs to the formal wear.

Never being able to wear what you wanted to be sounded degrading as hell. I looked down at my attire: mostly winter wear and jeans. But I picked it all out myself years ago and remembered my mom fussing over the material, asking me questions about my preferences.

While she was always annoying to shop with, it was nice to have someone checking on how I felt about something. Asking me about my desires, and thoughts. I realize now that Astarion never had that before. He probably didn't know what to even look for.

The thought made me sad. But I couldn't be like this. He wouldn't like it if I pitied him all the time, despite the centuries of suffering. I needed to act like I was helping him on his way, so that one day, he could (and would) return to his world, without me.

And I needed to accept that. If he was placed here magically, there was certainly little time before his friends would bring him back, to continue his adventures there, where he belonged. That kind of magic certainly could be replicated.

"So you're telling us, and, stop me if I'm wrong," Gale began, hands on his hips, "that it's not possible what I just explained?" He frowned at the human, Kosef, who merely stood his ground in his kitchen.

Shadowheart and Gale were standing in Kosef's kitchen, arms crossed, questioning underway. Karlach stood further back in the doorway, on account of the radiating heat from her shoulders. It was hard to keep cool ever since Astarion left. She didn't like it when people disappeared. She especially didn't like it when her friends disappeared. Least of all the most hopeless one, in her mind.

No big ax to swing. To magic stuff to spout. No god or goddess to protect them. Not even a decent pair of horns. How could someone like Astarion possibly survive in another material plane?

Hopefully where he'd gone, there were decent humans to feed on, or at least one that would help him, she thought.

I sighed, and began picking out some shirts and other items I figured a picky vampire might want to wear.

By the time I was done, Astarion was waiting outside. Wearing the clothes. He wasn't carrying his old ones. The woman behind him was still on her phone and didn't care.

I walked up to him, asking, "OK, so where are your other clothes?"

"These fit quite nicely, so I don't need them. And they're very comfortable, surprisingly." He made a 'huh' face.

I eyed the tags hanging off the back of his shirt and the pants.

Rolling with it, I handed him the shirts, coat, and dress pants. His eyes bulged, and he asked, "What are these?"

"They're more…your style, I think. It's considered formal wear, but you can wear it anytime." I smiled innocently.

What I had chosen was a nicer white button-up shirt, a thick black men's peacoat with a higher collar, black dress pants (the material was waterproof and could be worn casually), a black dress shirt, and a dark green knitted sweater. Subtly contemporary but simple items that he totally wouldn't look very attractive in.

After what felt like an hour or so, I found some darker t-shirts, a hoodie, and a beanie. Astarion emerged, wearing the same sweater and jeans he picked out. He was skeptically eyeing me.

"How did you know these would work? You've only seen me in one possible arrangement of clothing." He asked, holding all the pieces of clothing.

"I just figured you were more of a formal type. But, just in case," I put the shirts and other items I found on top of the draped pile on his arm. He grinned. "I don't even need to try them, do I?"

I smiled. "Nope. But you do need something that isn't leather boots." Hilariously he was wearing them over his jeans, which almost worked, were it not for the material and color differences.

He followed me to the shoe racks, which were overwhelming even for me. Eventually, he settled on two kinds of dress shoes that could be slipped on. One was a suede-laced shoe (but the laces were more for decoration), and the others were taller ankle-high leather boots that were zipped up from the side.

Not wanting to deal with the hassle of tying anything, these seemed to make Astarion the happiest. I grabbed socks and a bag of boxers on the way to the cashier, which was a super fun conversation trying to explain men's underwear preferences here.

Walking up to the cashier, I had to explain that the clothes he was wearing were not an attempt at theft.

"Sorry, but I vomited all over him so we just threw them away. Bad seafood." The woman instantly gave me a look of understanding and exasperation and said while scanning the clothes, "Ugh, gods, for a city so damn close to the water, you'd think the seafood places here would get their shit together. Me and my partner have gotten food poisoning from two different places now."

She glanced at Astarion's ears while she bagged our clothing. "You ready for Halloween already? Those contacts also look cute." She gave him a once-over before handing over the two large bags.

Astarion caught it, but replied, "Yes, darling, I'm ready for this Halloween," he glanced at me before adding, "thought I might go as Dracula."

The woman gave us a thumbs-up and said, "Great choice. Well, have a good day, Dracula." She waved as we began walking away. I removed the tags from all of Astarion's current clothes. As I threw them away, he thanked me.

"Don't worry. It's not every day I get to buy underwear for a vampire." I joked. He smirked.

On the drive back to the apartment, he was quiet. Sarge licked our faces as we pulled into the parking garage. Before I got out, Astarion surprised me by asking, "What did that woman mean by 'partner'?" He seemed curious. I figured he knew.

"Um, it was probably meant as a romantic partner kind of thing. Like a boyfriend or girlfriend." I briefly explained how Seattle was full of different kinds of sexualities and identities. Astarion listened intently.

Then he concluded, "Hm. Sounds very much like Toril."

"What did you think it meant?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing. I just…wanted to make sure it meant what it meant in Faerun. Sometimes…I refer to my friends as partners, due to the often transactional relationship we share on our adventures. But," he paused trying to find the words. "I don't…see them as romantic interests."

Avoiding his gaze, I looked forward, staring at the concrete wall of the parking garage. It was silent down here, except for Sarge's tail-wagging, which was grazing the seat with a swishing sound.

It would have been funny were it not for Astarion's awkward silence. Boldly, I asked, "Do they…have those feelings for you?"

Astarion shook his head immediately, stifling a chuckle. "No. At least, I don't believe so."

"Do you want them to?" I was pushing it, but part of me couldn't stop. Did he already have someone who loved him, that he wasn't telling me? I felt my face get hot with embarrassment. Of course, he could have had someone who loved him back in Faerun. It seemed impossible, now that I think about it if he didn't.

"No. I…my capacity to have feelings for anyone, other than Cazador or who he wanted me to have feelings for, is somewhat of a work in progress. And those I did care about from time to time did not survive long." Astarion looked down, but I couldn't tell what he was feeling. Was it guilt? Sadness? Longing? Regret? I figured it was likely a mix of all of those.

I thought about my earlier realization that he could have lovers or partners. It wasn't my business at all. Pangs of guilt ate at my stomach. If someone had asked me all these stupid questions, I certainly wouldn't have answered them or appreciated it.

I put my hand on his arm. It was very warm through the sweater, which looked great on him, by the way. (Everything did. Even a bloodied shirt.) He looked at me, surprised. "We don't have to talk about this. I don't like talking about my feelings, and I'm sorry I asked."

Without waiting for a response, I got out and let Sarge out. I grabbed the shopping bags, deciding to leave the camping gear there until the next time Astarion needed to feed on attacking bears.

While I was leashing Sarge, Astarion got out and grabbed the bags near me. With a content facial expression, he stood up straight and said, "Don't be sorry. You don't have anything to be sorry about, Blue."

I smiled at him. He gave me a brief head nod, then asked, "Shall we?"

"We shall." I led the way through the parking garage to the elevator.

Kosef rolled his eyes and turned around to face the stove, the tea kettle whistling on cue.

"When you describe it like that, yes, it's impossible." He said as a matter-of-factly.

"So is it possible, or not?" Shadowheart asked, her patience wearing thin.

Kosef walked to a table, balancing his tea gracefully before sitting down. He ran his hands on his face, as if he was suddenly tired. He paused and gazed at the band of people all glaring at him in his tiny kitchen.

He regretted ever telling Gale he owed him anything.

"Look, if you really want answers," Kosef started. Karlach interrupted, "Of course we fucking do chump, why d'you think we're here?"

Kosef ignored her and continued, "Then it's a long story. You'll need to sit down. And don't interrupt." Kosef shot a glance at Karlch, who grunted in response.

It was going to be a long day for Kosef.