The traffic in Seattle was pleasantly slower in the rain. Sarge, who refused to sit in the back, despite the fancy dog cover Jesse bought me, was perched in the front passenger seat. Pulling out my phone, I sent Greyson a text telling him I was on my way. Then I rolled down the passenger window a few inches to let Sarge smell the city rain. Several nose-shaped smears dotted the top of the glass.

Letting the synth-wave music echo in the car, a calmness settled over me, as my headache was nearly gone. There weren't many people walking in the city, but I knew Pike's Place was going to be crowded as hell. The parking lot was nearly empty as I pulled into it, the Rav4 easily making a spot closer to the road. At the sound of loud music, I saw large crowds on the road of Pike's Place.

Right. The Halloween markets. This year, Seattle's artists and chefs were doing a new local 'October Fest' celebration, which was just a larger, fancier, and more diverse Saturday market kind of thing rather than a traditional "Oktoberfest". As I leashed Sarge after pulling up my hoodie, I remembered Alex saying something about it, but I didn't realize it had started this Sunday.

I knew Greyson better than to ask him about it. Remaining in his shop was something he insisted on doing like a soldier at his post. "If you leave, that's how people steal. Worse, you lose opportunities to talk them into buying weird shit." At least, that was the reason he gave me the last time I asked when Pike's Place was nearly empty on a Monday morning.

I looped the leash around me so I didn't have to carry it, and Sarge walked on my right side, eyes searching for stray bacon. "No more bacon ice cream for you this time, Sarge," I said curtly, waiting to cross the street.

Sarge looked up at me and blinked. After crossing, I stopped to watch the marketplace.

It was vibrant as if everyone was rebelling against the weather. Beecher's was popping off, as usual. The original Starbucks booth was, of course, swelling. I caught a glimpse of a large sign with new drinks to celebrate the market. Other dogs in bright jackets wandered with their owners. People were laughing, eating food, and talking on their phones.

A sort of isolated, melancholic longing, for something unknown briefly swept over me. I liked Seattle a lot, and had done many things with my friends. But something about watching others enjoy themselves with blind content made me feel more lonely as if the world was showing me what I could be doing. It wasn't punishing me, but it certainly wanted me to see. See what, I suppose I wasn't sure.

A couple with a similar large dog in a rain jacket walked passed me. Their Burmese mountain dog sniffed at Sarge, who licked the dog's snout before looking at me. The couple smiled, said, 'hi', and continued walking. The man was beaming at her as if the rain and weather could be repelled by his happiness.

The way he looked at her made me retreat into myself, and I marched towards Greyson's Box. I wasn't sure if it was disgust, or something else. I made my way, with some difficulty, through the crowds of people to the lower areas, where it was immediately less crowded. The market was primarily upstairs on the weekends. No wonder the huge amount of people.

Down here, it was almost quiet. The wet, muddy ground housed the typical smell of fish, and Sarge lifted his nose in the air as I walked down the walkway, lingering by shops as I glimpsed various foods, trinkets, and -

No fucking way.

I halted in my tracks after turning the corner. Standing in front of the store was Astarion, a girl, and my ex, Dalton.

For fuck's sake. Any calmness left my body like water vaporizing on a blazing fire. Sarge stared straight ahead, tail alert.

"I know, buddy." I gave him a scratch behind his ear, and a treat, soothing his hackled fur.

Astarion looked soaked to the bone. Dalton appeared like his typical self: a raging prick about to start some ridiculous fight over something stupider than he was. Poor girl, she has no idea what she's in for. I did, though. (A world of bullshit, is what.)

I debated walking away, but they were standing in front of Greyson's Box. Irritation was about to light a fire in my stomach, but I took a deep breath and walked towards them. Sarge was pulling, growling at Dalton. If I let him off leash, he'd probably bite Dalton's head off for what he did to Sarge two years ago.

(Turns out, throwing an empty bottle stuffed with burnt-out marijuana blunts at a German shepherd is something that German shepherd won't ever forget. And neither did I.)

"...is made of to a pathetic human like you?" Astarion was bristling, and I could swear steam might have started wafting from his shoulders. I didn't disagree with his words. Trying not to instinctively scowl or find the nearest object to throw at Dalton, I walked up to the group.

"Blue." Astarion turned slightly to me, momentarily shocked, and if I wasn't imagining things, glad to see me. I got the sense that Sarge wasn't the only one about to assault Seattle's biggest imbecile.

"What - do you know this retard?" Dalton spat at me, holding his gaze with Astarion. Sarge finally stopped dragging me as I reached into my pocket for a treat. But he didn't move. Instead, he stood in front of me, watching Dalton with the kind of infernal gaze that I've rarely seen even in humans. I could feel the low vibrations of his growling through the leash.

I responded through gritted teeth, "First of all, fuck you. And second, fuck you because that's none of your business, so fuck off before I let Sarge tear your face off in front of your girlfriend." The girl behind Dalton cowered and shrunk away.

Dalton sneered, "What, you finally decided to wear the pants in a relationship?"

Boy was Sarge's leash clip looking mighty loose.

"Since yours were always too tight, yeah, and 'cause someone has to have a dick to get shit done. Not that it's hard since yours is so small."

At the moment, I admit that it was petty to spout up personal insults to someone I willingly spent at least a year of my life with. Someone who, in that time, contributed to my bank of worst memories, and may have, at one point, sent me to the hospital.

At that hospital, the nurse, who was a stout woman named Miranda, said I was what she called 'a middle finger fighter'.

But Dalton was still a man, taller and larger than me. And his tendencies towards violence were only dampened with Sarge, who left a fantastic scar on Dalton's left ass cheek, which, I'm sure this girl hadn't seen yet.

The rage in Dalton's eyes flared. The insults he was itching to say in front of Astarion and strangers hurrying along were at the tip of his tongue. But I stared daggers at him anyway. If he laid a hand on me, Sarge would take it. If he laid a hand on my vampire acquaintance, I was sure Astarion wouldn't let him get away with both hands intact either.

"If your gay boyfriend and dumb dog weren't here, we both know what would happen." I couldn't stop the slight twinge of fear from rising in my stomach, but I narrowed my eyes and growled before Astarion could say anything, "Yeah. You'd still puss out because beating on women is so manly." I looked past him to the girl, who was now listening, and watching. She looked scared as hell. But a twinge of enlightenment was in her eyes.

I said to her, "Do yourself a favor, dump this shithead."

Dalton squared himself, picked up the bag of food, snatched his girlfriend's hand, and walked past us, but said right to my face, "Bitch," and with a glare at Astarion, he added, "Fag". Sarge let out a single ferocious bark. The girl jumped, but Dalton dragged her away.

I exhaled like an overinflated tire, and Sarge turned to me for a treat. I gave him a handful, whispering, "Good boy". Sarge's tail resumed wagging. I had to close my eyes to reset, and tell myself that I was safe. Sarge leaned against me for a moment.

"Charming." Astarion's dry remark was a stark contrast to his usual velvety tones. Sarge walked over to him, and sniffed his pants, then looked up at him, inquiring. Injuries?

Astarion managed a smirk at my companion and stroked his head once before looking at me.

For the first time since the conversation, I was able to look at him properly. His eyes seemed darker, more exhausted from holding back. I could swear I felt something receding or retreating into him. Was he about to kill them?

Honestly, I wasn't sure I cared if he was, as long as I wasn't an appetizer. But earlier, he looked a little scary in a 'about-to-explode-and-take-you-with-me way'.

"Yeah. Dalton is uh, an ex." I tried to calm my racing heart. I hoped Astarion wasn't able to hear it.

"How did you ever find yourself in that kind of company?" It wasn't judgment. His gaze was of bewilderment.

"Um. Well," I thought for a moment, "Sometimes, people don't seem like monsters until they're vulnerable. But by then, it feels like a reason to stay with them, rather than run for the woods."

Astarion looked away. "Right. Very accurately described."

"Were you about to…eat them?" I tentatively asked.

His gaze returned to me, challenging. "Would that scare you?"

"I've never seen a vampire in action. But, I doubt it. Dalton's an asshole."

Astarion made a scrunched face and I had to resist giggling. (I thought his face looked weird when he did that.) But he ignored it and replied flatly, "Well, his blood smells putrid. He wouldn't taste very good at all, and I'd probably settle on just killing him, lest he curse this realm with his presence."

"Oh. Yeah, he probably still smokes weed, tobacco, LSD, anything he can shove in some paper and inhale. Probably still a drunkard too."

The pale elf made a deeper grimace, and inquired, "He eats weeds?"

"No, it's a drug you like, stuff in burn-able paper and smoke. Same with LSD. And tobacco. They make you lazy. And slow." Bitterness welled up in me, as I recalled his messy apartment. Thank god I never let him move in. I had Sarge to thank for that.

"Disgusting," Astarion remarked. Like a switch, he asked with a new lightness, "Did you follow me here?"

I rolled my eyes. "No. I came to pick up something from there," I gestured towards Greyson's Box.

"Oh. Well, I suppose you don't know of any thralls wandering around that I can feed on, do you?" He was serious. He was seriously asking me if I knew randoms that would be willing to die.

"Uh, no. We don't have those here. Dalton was probably the closest thing." I stepped into Greyson's Box, hoping to find him in the back as the warmth inside greeted me. His shop looked like a bookstore, but it was a larger space for all manner of things. Collectibles, comics, books, trinkets, toys, antiques - anything you needed, he usually had. There were a few customers on the other side of the store, browsing.

Astarion followed me and groaned. "Damn."

"I thought you only consumed animals?" I asked. Sarge looked at Astarion, who replied, "I do. But that was in a place where animals were abundant, numerous in fact. Here, I wasn't sure such a source was somewhere I could get to. I don't even see a squirrel or a rat."

I stopped. "You eat rats?"

Astarion halted, nearly bumping into me. "Yes. They're not as bad as you'd think, but certainly not as good either." He kept his gaze on me. He's in a whole new realm and the thing he's looking at is me. I felt the usual tug of 'leave me alone'. I didn't like being watched.

"Who eats rats?" Greyson poked his head out from a precarious tower of boxes in the corner.

"No one." I quickly responded as Astarion gave me a disapproving look. No way I was going to tell Greyson about my vampire acquaintance. With a grey beanie and Batman t-shirt, Greyson stepped over displays of various items and boxes of rare comics, holding a clipboard and a pen.

"Thank god you're here, I needed a distraction from inventory work. You'd think with all the stuff I sell, I'd run out one day."

"Right but then what would you do all day?" I asked, giving him a knowing look.

"Who's your friend?" Greyson asked, looking in half-opened boxes for my ornament.

"Astarion. Do you know of any thralls that no longer require their blood?" Astarion asked dryly, gazing at all the items surrounding us with little interest.

"Ha, your friend's funny. Who did you run into? Thought I heard shouting or something, but there's a lot of that here with the Halloween markets lately." With an 'ah-ha!', Greyson pulled out a small, paper-wrapped package with a twine bow.

"Found it. Careful, it's made of glass." I grabbed it and carefully placed it in my backpack, musing, "Wow, you even wrapped it for me."

Greyson shrugged. "Nothing else to do when people buy things here. Besides, there's no shortage of that wrapping paper here. Comes in the boxes of stuff I get." Greyson smiled at me, but turned serious. "I'm sorry you ran into Dalton. If I was paying more attention, I would have warned you or something."

"Don't worry. It's bound to happen sometimes. Last time, he didn't notice me. And, it's why I take Sarge with me, right boy?" I looked down at Sarge, who wagged his tail and smiled, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

"Yeah, I wouldn't want Sarge to bite me. I need all my fingers for all this goddamn inventory shit that never ends. Anyways," Rolling his eyes miserably, Greyson picked up his clipboard. "Thanks for finally picking up your loot. I assume you're both headed to the markets?"

"Do the markets sell human blood?" The sarcasm dripping from Astarion's voice could have bled onto the floor.

Greyson laughed. "Honestly, that would be cool. I like your friend, Blue." He gazed at Astarion with an intriguing look. "Astarion. Very dramatic name. Nice to meet you." With a few steps over some boxes, Greyson made his way back to the tower of boxes, pen behind his ear.

I walked out of the store with Astarion in tow.

"Well, he seemed nice. Would you mind if I killed him real quick?" Astarion asked as I adjusted my backpack and Sarge's leash.

I spun around to face him. "NO. Don't do that. Greyson's a good friend of mine."

"Just a friend?" Astarion raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. Now what's your plan since there aren't any lions or tigers or bears around."

Astarion grumpily put his hands on his hips, clearly trying to think. But he seemed irritated, impatient. "I have no idea. If I wait much longer, I will become so weak that I'll have to rest, but it seems there aren't any wilderness areas here. And I lack the supplies to do so at the moment." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

Wait. Wilderness. Bears.

Now, wait, Blue. Taking a thirsty vampire on a solo camping trip out in the middle of nowhere with just you and him was NOT going to go well. It couldn't.

But, then again, if he wanted to kill me, he would. And if I didn't help him, I might be an accomplice to eventual murder.

Well, what's a life if it wasn't full? It was Sunday, we still had time.

"I think…I have an idea." I said.

"By all means, I'd love to hear it." Annoyed, Astarion was still pinching his nose.

Ignoring his tone, "Outside the city, there's places to camp or hike. I'm not sure if you'd find larger animals like bears, but the chance is still better out there than in the city. And you can practically step on rabbits in the wilderness here." Sarge whipped his head around at the word, 'rabbit'.

Astarion opened his eyes. "Really? Which direction?"

I laughed. "Well, you can't walk there from here. It's several miles. But we can drive there in about thirty minutes. I can grab some camping supplies and wait while you go and…hunt. Then, we can figure out what your next step is."

Astarion raised his eyebrows and replied, "And you'd be willing to escort a thirsting vampire spawn, alone, out to go hunt?"

Normally, this is where someone would probably take a hint and run away. But, the way he was asking was more of a challenge, as if he was questioning my bravery and willingness, not my sanity.

Challenge accepted.

"If it will stop you from killing people in the city and potentially leading me to jail, then yes. And," I paused, looking into his darkened eyes, "You seem…pretty hangry."

The elf asked, "Hangry?"

"Hungry and angry. Anger from hunger. Hangry." I offered a smile. To my surprise, he smiled back.

"Well, let's get going then." He straightened up and ran a hand through his hair. For a moment, I watched the way it moved along his pointed ears and pearlescent skin. The way it shimmered from being wet and slicked back. Before he could notice, I added, "Ok, I'm parked this way. But I have to grab some things from the apartment first."

I glanced at his soaked appearance.

"Deal."