BAZ

Dylan shows up late to breakfast. We've already set aside a seat and a plate of toast and bacon for him. He goes straight for the coffee when he comes in.

"You look like rubbish," I say as he sits down.

He scoffs in reply. Did he and Wellbelove get into it last night? What happened after I left the ramparts?

Dylan picks up his toast and studies it. I finally realize what's missing.

"Where are your glasses?" I ask.

Dev and Niall must not have noticed either, because when I say that both of them look up in confusion.

Dylan reaches up and pats his face, then frowns. "Oh," is all he says.

That's it? Oh? That's all he's bloody got to say? What in Crowley's hairy chest is going on?

I don't say anything more. I don't eat either. The last thing I'd want is for my fangs to pop right now. I do so terribly want to reach out to him though. I sip my tea instead. Dylan nurses his coffee. Dev and Niall eat like regular people. Good men, they are.

Dylan is still offset during class. I'm afraid it's got something to do with last night. At least he's got his glasses on now.

After dinner I ask him to join me on the Lawn. I need him to know that last night doesn't change anything. That he's still as much a bloke as I am. I need him to know I don't see him any differently.

I wait for him under the shade of a tree. I may not erupt into flames, but the sun still does sting a bit. I'm not waiting long before I see his short figure slowly making it's way across the Lawn. He sits down next to me and begins picking at the bark on the tree. Destructive prat. Bloody American.

"Sooooooo, you wanted to talk?" He asks.

I sit down with him. "I want you to know nothing changes, okay?" I'm speaking softly. "You know, what with last night. You're still a bloke. Being born female doesn't change that."

That brings his big grin back out to his face. He still looks like he's aged ten years overnight. The skin under his eyes has taken on a dull dark tint. His eyes have lost their blue, and instead have taken on a greyness. He's got so much texture in those eyes. Sure, Snow's eyes are blue, but Dylan's are layers of things. There's brilliant blue, flecks of darker blue, as well as grey and black.

I can't just sit here and let myself get lost in his eyes like this. I stand up and brush off my trousers, then hold my hand out in offer. Dylan hesitates a moment, then gives in. I pull him up to his feet.

"Walk with me, yeah?" I ask.