Colin seriously considered calling out sick that morning. He'd never done it before, but he'd also never dreaded coming into work before, either. The office was supposed to be a second home to him, the hunting grounds he'd spent the last four years making his own. With the way things were going with Joan, he was pretty sure she'd be doing the hunting if he came in today.

His hand started to reach for his phone, ready to dial George's number and fake a wet cough. Maybe throw some violent sneezes in there, a sniffle or two for good measure, if George would even let him get that far before marking him as absent and ending the call.

Colin pulled his hand back. It was incredibly tempting to call out, but in the end it would just be delaying the inevitable. He didn't want to spend another day tying himself into knots, wondering how another confrontation with Joan would end up. She'd already resisted boredom, then she'd resisted draining. Fuck, would she drain him next? He wasn't even sure that was possible, not even by other energy vampires, but it wouldn't surprise him anymore if she found a way.

He made his way to work as he kept trying - and failing - to keep his panicked thoughts at bay. He didn't register the moment he got on the bus or the moment he got off. It was only when the elevator doors to his floor opened that he found himself wrenched back to the present.

He tentatively stepped out and made his way to his desk, repeatedly checking over his shoulder to prevent a potential jumpscare from Joan. It was completely unnecessary, as she was probably already at her desk working, like every morning. He'd be able to sense her energy anyway if she got close. He'd spent enough time analyzing her that he'd be able to recognize it in a heartbeat.

When he finally made it to his cubicle, he set down his briefcase on his desk. Or at least, that's what he would have done, if there wasn't something currently occupying it.

Sitting on his desk rather innocuously was a small paper bag with confetti on it. There was blue tissue paper coming out of the top and a tag on it with a note written in neat handwriting. It read:

"To: Colin

From: Joan

Sorry about Friday, hope you like it!"

There was a smiley face drawn next to his name.

Fighting the urge to turn tail and run, he peeked over his cubicle wall and spotted Joan at her desk. She typed away, oblivious to his spying.

He tentatively sat down and picked up the bag. He shook it a little and heard nothing but the rustling of paper tissue. He reached into it and pulled out a white mug. It looked exactly like his old one, except printed across it were the words "World's Okayest Coworker."

For a moment Colin blanked, but then something seemed to short circuit pleasantly inside his brain. It was a gift. She'd given him a gift. The last gift he could remember receiving was a Nickelback CD on his last birthday from Guillermo. He'd never received a gift outside of a special occasion, which were few and far between.

Before he could think better of it, he cradled the mug in his hands and soaked in its energy. People always left residual energy around them, in the air, on the walls, on whatever they touched. It was never enough to drain and usually not even worth examining, but Colin felt a great urge to give this mug a closer look.

The mug felt like Joan - warm, bright, patient, sympathetic. To a human these descriptors might sound ridiculous, but they were so limited in how they viewed the world. They couldn't perceive the small pieces of themselves they left behind. Colin was grateful he wasn't human, because what a shame it would be not to notice the piece of Joan here.

The fear that had been plaguing him all weekend quickly faded away, the mug's muted, calming energy somehow pushing all that aside. It was normally an impossibility for Colin to enjoy cheerful energies, but the mug's energy was just diluted enough for him to appreciate it.

He set the mug back down on his desk, a wide grin on his face. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Joan making her way toward him. His face fell, but not before she saw his smile. He could tell she'd noticed because he'd sensed a spike of satisfaction and giddiness when she saw him, which had soured a little when he'd frowned. He wasn't quite sure what to make of that.

She stopped in front of him with an easy but exhausted smile on her face. He noted the bags under her eyes; they were deeper than they were on Friday. She broadcasted so many emotions - eagerness, to see what he'd have to say about her gift; exhaustion, from doing what, he didn't know; and something secret, something hidden, something he couldn't seem to pin down, no matter how much he squinted.

"So," she began, her voice not betraying any of the exhaustion he sensed in her, "What do you think?"

She gestured to the mug. "I felt bad about breaking your other one so I thought it'd only be fair to replace it. And when I was shopping I thought this one screamed 'Colin!' so I had to get it."

"It's, uh…"

She looked at him expectantly. She probably was expecting a "thank you" or "you didn't have to do that" but unfortunately, Colin was an energy vampire and "thank you" wasn't in his typical vocabulary.

"It's … fine."

Her smile remained, but he could feel her enthusiasm dip dramatically. Colin could've sworn the mug looked at him with disappointment.

"It's okay if you don't like it. I can always trade it in for a plain one, like the one you had before. I won't be offended."

She started to reach for the mug, but Colin was quick. He snatched it back, clutching it protectively against his chest.

"No, no! It's good. This one is good."

Joan laughed, and god, the muted feelings of joy in the mug were nothing compared to the real deal. He scooted back further into his cubicle. Joy was unpleasant. It was airy, but rich, and horribly migraine-inducing. It left frustrating little spots in his vision. He awkwardly tried to blink them away as Joan leaned against his desk.

"I'm glad you like it, then. I really did feel bad about startling you! That wasn't my intention."

He rubbed at his eyes with the palm of his hand. "Then what was your intention?" he said, more focused on the stupid colored circles floating in his eyes than her.

Joan's eyes went wide, not that he could see it. "Well, I was trying to, uh… wake up. I was getting a little tired."

Bored, she meant. She was getting a little bored. He stopped rubbing at his eyes as his vision finally cleared. "What, you don't find me reciting the employee handbook riveting?"

She laughed again, but this time he was prepared. He braced for the onslaught of her sudden happiness, and weathered it well. There weren't any spots this time, only a vague ache in his head he was sure would go away as soon as he drained someone actually capable of it.

"Unfortunately, no, I don't. I don't think there's anybody out there more passionate about the employee handbook than you, Colin, even George. Your eyes practically lit up when you talked about it."

Colin played back Friday's events in his mind. Had his eyes glowed then? He couldn't always help it, and didn't always know he was doing it, either. But she couldn't have noticed, could she? Energy vampires were like a big blind spot to humans - even when they revealed their supernatural tendencies, humans didn't ever seem to take notice. They were always too caught up in their own pathetic little worlds to perceive the insane things happening around them.

No, she couldn't have noticed. She wouldn't be so casual about it if she had.

"What can I say, I'm a passionate guy," he said, using the driest tone he could.

Joan laughed again. It was getting a lot easier to tolerate.

She glanced up at the clock on the wall. "As fun as this is, I should probably head back to my desk. I'm sure you've noticed the piles of paperwork over there. Got to whittle that down somehow." She shrugged. "See you later, Colin."

She turned to go, but before she could, Colin heard himself saying "what time do you normally go to lunch?"

She paused. "About 12:30. Why?"

He strummed his fingers against his new mug. "Could I … maybe … join you?" Colin had looked away as he said it, worried the brightness of her energy would blind him.

She didn't respond at first, like she was at a loss, but it only took a moment for her shock to turn to delight.

"Of course!" she chirped, "The lunch room is always dead, so it'll be nice to have someone there. I think everybody else eats in their cars."

They did. Years ago, Colin used to prowl the lunchroom on people's breaks and drain them as they ate. Sometimes they'd fall asleep in the middle of their meals. The break room was pretty much his territory alone after that.

When Joan finally walked away, Colin slumped in his chair. Tired, but … relieved.

Sometime during his short conversation with Joan it had finally become apparent what strategy he needed to use in dealing with her. He'd tried boring her - which had backfired spectacularly multiple times. He could quit and find a new office to drain, but that would mean wasting all the time he'd spent here learning everyone's quirks and weak points. He could try avoiding her, but that was inconvenient. And he wouldn't ever admit it, but… he didn't really want to avoid her forever. Not after receiving one of the only gifts he'd ever received.

This was the only interaction he'd had with her that didn't end in her revealing some terrible new way of resisting him. It was also the only interaction he'd had where he hadn't tried draining her.

Which meant he really only had one option left: accept the situation for what it was, and adapt. Instead of trying to get the better of her, which he was convinced at this point was impossible, he'd have to find a way to fit her into his routine. Treat her like … a friend, like she'd been treating him.

While energy vampires were most comfortable with an established routine, they were used to adapting to their environments. They had to be. Blood vampires could live for centuries, never changing, feeding on the blood of new generations of humans every year, but energy vampires had to be clever. The human world was always changing, which meant newer ways of draining people had to be invented. To stagnate meant to starve, and Colin refused to fade away into nothing.

So he'd have to change. Big deal. A decade ago he'd taught himself how to drain through trolling on the internet, and what a steep learning curve he'd had then. If he could figure that out, then he was sure he could get accustomed to Joan's positive emotions and not cringe internally everytime she smiled.

He leaned back in his chair, mentally preparing himself for the lunch he'd signed himself up for. He mimed drinking from his empty mug, sipping some of its gentle, harmonic energy.

Hmm. Tasted a lot better than coffee.

It occurred to Colin far too late that eating lunch with someone meant eating lunch.

As Joan pulled her lunch bag from the office fridge and sat down at one of the tables, Colin realized it'd probably be very strange to share lunch with her without actually eating anything. Ordinarily he would view this as an excellent opportunity to make things awkward, but he was trying something new, so falling into old habits wasn't an option.

Colin went to the fridge and dug out some leftover pizza from a past party - birthday? Retirement? He couldn't remember - and placed it on a plate. It looked entirely unappetizing, as all human food did. He knew what it tasted like to humans, as he'd experienced it second-hand anytime someone ate it around him, but he still couldn't see what was so great about a triangular slab of cheese and bread.

Joan had brought a sandwich from home and was patiently waiting for him to sit before taking a bite. He sat down in front of her and set his plate. She looked down at his meal with a soft sense of surprise, but said nothing about it, and began to eat.

He stared at the pizza with thinly veiled disgust. When he was finally able to summon the will to take a bite into the cold slice, he shuddered. It tasted like - well, there were no emotions to compare this to. Any emotion tasted better than this.

Joan was not oblivious to Colin's discomfort. Her sympathy slowly wrapped itself around him in a gentle vice, if there was such a thing.

"I didn't know you ate. Lunch, I mean. Last week I never saw you eat."

She noticed? "Oh, I did, you just didn't see it."

She pursed her lips. "Right."

Colin finally managed to swallow the bite of pizza, gritting his teeth with the effort.

"Oh, Colin..," she sighed quietly. Joan's sympathy squeezed a little tighter.

He was about to brave another bite when she interrupted him. "That pizza looks a little … off. It might be best to trash it, just to stay on the safe side. And maybe don't eat anything for the rest of lunch, so your stomach can settle."

Oh, thank god. "You might be right. Excessive moisture in a closed environment - say, a heavily used office refrigerator - can induce mold growth."

"Yes, exactly, trash that. Now."

He smiled and threw the slice into the trash. Or, he tried, and it bounced off the rim and landed cheese-down onto the floor. He couldn't tell if he'd biffed it on purpose or if that was just his energy vampire nature choosing to ruin a good moment.

"See, I meant to do that."

She tried suppressing her smile, but it was about as effective as trying to block sunlight with cellophane. "Of course, just like when you tripped over Derek and pulled him down with you."

He got up and put the pizza in the trash, ignoring the slightly yellow stain on the floor. He chuckled, "Yeah, except that was actually on purpose."

She nearly choked on her next bite as she laughed. "I knew it!"

He took his seat again. The break room was small, so Joan's feelings of amusement filled the room to the brim. It was frustrating, being surrounded by unappetizing energy with no way of draining it, but it was better than trying to drain it and failing.

They fell into silence for a little while, Colin trying to manage existing in the atmosphere of the room while Joan ate her meal. There was no awkwardness to it, unfortunately, as Joan seemed to be content to just sit quietly together. Colin listened to the sounds of printers and phone calls outside the break room. It was familiar, and it grounded him in this strange new territory he found himself exploring.

"So," she began casually, finally breaking the frustratingly comfortable silence, "What exactly do you do here? I've been wondering, so I was looking at everyone's titles and you don't seem to have one."

No one had ever asked him that question before. He'd shown up one day four years ago and just kept showing up until they added him to the payroll. No one questioned what he did because none of them could get far enough in a conversation with him to ask without getting drowsy.

"I work. You know, sending emails, applying what they tell us to in the meetings, keeping our stats up."

"Anything more specific than that?"

He took a very long, obnoxious slurp from his empty mug. He smacked his lips afterwards. "Yeah, I can get more specific."

He didn't. He said nothing more and just continued to sip from his mug. Joan shook her head a little and chuckled. "I'm not going to get a straight answer from you, am I?"

He shrugged. "Maybe."

She threw her hands in the air. "Fine, don't tell me. I'll just keep pretending you're doing what I like to think you're doing."

"And what's that?"

She grinned a shit-eating grin. Her energy bent a little around the edges - she was being coy. "That you get paid to walk around and distract people. You purposely jam the copier, move the stuff on people's desks, and trip over people to give yourself something to do. All on the clock, of course."

His eyes widened a little, uncomfortable with how accurate her description was. He reminded himself of why he was here, sitting across this strange human in this strange situation - to work around her, not fight her. The break room was still his territory. There was nothing to panic about.

He decided to match her energy. "Am I that obvious?"

"Just a little." She took the last bite of her sandwich and began cleaning up her side of the table. "At my last job there was a guy like that. I'm pretty sure he did actually just get paid to walk around and be annoying. You remind me a lot of him, actually." Her eyes widened and she floundered for a moment. "Not that you're annoying! But you and him dress similarly and he never seemed to spend any time at his desk, going around and chatting people up. They always seemed dead after they talked to him."

Another energy vampire, most likely. Most offices had one. He wondered if she'd caused as much trouble for that energy vampire as she had for him. Or had the other one found a way to drain her? What if the issue hadn't been Joan this whole time, but with him?

"And what about you? Did he make you feel, uh, dead?" He danced around the word "drained," not sure why he suddenly didn't feel comfortable using it.

She tilted her head and studied him for a moment. She seemed to sense the importance of the question to him, so she took her time formulating the answer. The air around her got heavier. "No. I never did. He didn't talk to me much, actually, not after my first few days there. I think he avoided me. He seemed … relieved, when I put in my two weeks."

So it was her, then. That made him feel a little better. If she'd gotten the best of another energy vampire somewhere out there, then it proved he wasn't inadequate - she was just abnormal.

She'd grown a little somber at the mention of her old coworker being pleased she was gone. There were no more twists in her energy. It was all straightened out now and sunk in all directions, like ink dropped in water. This was refreshing. There were no disgustingly sweet sensations he had to ward against.

The mug in his hands still held a bit of Joan in it, the happier version. Despite how much more comfortable it was for Colin now, it seemed wrong for the brightest energy in the room to come from an inanimate object instead of the living woman in front of him.

"His loss, then."

And just like that, the lovely morose cloud around her dissipated. He tensed up as a wave of appreciation washed over him. He started to regret cheering her up.

"Thank you." She tapped her fingers against the table. "You're actually not much like him, now that I think about it. He wasn't funny at all."

"You think I'm funny?"

Colin wasn't sure what universe Joan could have come from if she thought he was funny, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't appreciate the compliment. The few times he'd attempted to use humor to drain his roommates had been complete failures. Well, not complete failures. They did find his jokes so unbearably unfunny that he was able to drain quite a bit of annoyance from them.

"Colin, I watched you move everything on Kim's desk just enough for her to notice a change and not suspect someone had gone in and moved everything. She spent the rest of the day talking about fault lines and tectonic plates and how there could have been a minor earthquake that was just powerful enough to slightly move objects without disrupting everything else. That is hilarious."

He laughed a little. He remembered Kim's ridiculous earthquake theory. She'd had a very crazed, jittery energy about her then. It had been satisfying to drain, but not very filling. Burned itself out too quickly.

"Oh, yeah. Kim's always been paranoid. I 'borrowed' her stapler once without telling her about it and she came up with this elaborate theory involving the janitor and a blackmarket office supply ring. HR had to get involved."

Joan laughed loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls. He flinched, but still felt a sense of satisfaction at having made her laugh.

The rest of lunch was pleasant - well, as pleasant as it could be for him. He shared more stories of him bothering the rest of the office, the strategies he used and how he came to develop them. Joan just listened, chuckling at each story with genuine amusement. The room was practically bursting with her energy - hazy and light and warm; the air was so thick it felt like his lungs were weighing him down.

Colin thought it might be worth it, though. He'd never had an audience interested in him this long before. Not a conscious one, anyway. He was willing to tolerate the oppressive positivity in the room just to experience the novelty of having a pleasant conversation with a friend. She seemed genuinely entertained by his stories and his lengthy descriptions of the best ways to annoy everyone else in the office. There was no pity or a feigned sense of interest to be polite. She really did think he was funny!

Occasionally some of the other coworkers would pass by the breakroom or filter in to get some coffee. Each time, they seemed to do a double take when they saw Colin and Joan sitting together and hastily made their exit. Sometimes the subject of one of his stories would enter and Colin would quickly stop talking, Joan conspiratorially giggling as they both waited for them to leave. It was strange. He'd never strayed so far out of his comfort zone before and while the whole thing was deeply unnerving, it was a little thrilling, too. How many energy vampires could say they'd made a friend of one of their prey? And a human one, no less? How many of them could say anyone liked them?

An alarm on her phone went off, abruptly interrupting Colin. Joan said it meant her lunch was over, so she packed away her things, thanked him for his stories, and went to the door to leave. Colin hadn't realized he'd been talking that long. For the first time in his life, he'd lost track of the time. Even more strange, he was disappointed for it to be over.

She paused in the doorway and turned back. Soft swirls of … something, danced around her. He squinted, trying to identify what emotion the fuzzy tendrils could be. Appreciation? Congeniality? He was not well-versed in reading positive emotions. Why would he ever need to be?

"Just so you know, you're always welcome to have lunch with me, Colin."

The thought of having to eat more human food for the privilege of maintaining their friendship made his mouth dry up. As interesting as it had been, he could not do it again.

"I'm actually not a big lunch eater. Plenty of sources say that intermittent fasting is a very effective weight loss strategy."

He expected disappointment from her. Instead, those soft swirly things around her straightened out and hardened. Ah, he knew that one, that was determination.

"I respect that. You're still welcome to join, whether you eat or not."

That wasn't all she wanted to say. He saw her bite the inside of her cheek. She was conflicted, trying to decide whether or not to voice whatever it was on the tip of her tongue.

Ultimately the determination beat the doubt. "I'd prefer if you kept having lunch with me. Last week it was so boring just sitting here in silence for an hour. I would love to have a lunch buddy, especially you."

A lunch buddy. She wanted him - him! Especially him! - to be her lunch buddy, not to eat lunch, no, just so she wouldn't be bored.

The total insanity of it, of asking an energy vampire of all creatures to quell her boredom, tipped him over the edge. He laughed harder than he could ever remember laughing, shutting his eyes as they unwillingly began to glow.

As he laughed, he sensed awkwardness from her for once. Rejection. Embarrassment.

It was tempting. So tempting to try to drain it, just one last time. He'd caught her off guard - maybe this time he'd succeed and she wouldn't block him out. He'd slip in quietly, drain just a little, so she wouldn't notice, and run off knowing he'd finally had some small victory over her.

He opened his eyes, the glow having faded. Joan looked unbalanced, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Waiting for his answer. Expecting a no. Her energy was smoky - wispy, even. Self-doubt and embarrassment cloaked her fully, her earlier determination nowhere to be found.

He sighed. He'd gotten this far with his new plan for peace - he wasn't going to abandon it now on an impulsive whim. Not when the mug in his hand hummed so pleasantly when he said, "Sorry, uh, yes - yes I'd like to keep having lunch with you, too."

The dark cloak around her fell away with her relief. "Good. What was so funny, though?"

He shrugged. "Nothing, it's just - if you told anyone else in this office you wanted me to be your 'lunch buddy' they'd think you're crazy. Or a masochist."

She considered him for a moment, a sad smile playing across her pale lips. "Their loss, then."

She left the break room, taking most of her energy with her. Colin exhaled and tried not to dwell on her parting words. He'd said that same thing to her in an uncharacteristic attempt to comfort her. Was she trying to do the same for him? He shook his head. No, that was ridiculous. What could he possibly need comforting for? He was fine.

He'd have to go back to the office soon and start draining his other coworkers because by this point he was practically starving. For now though he was just going to sit, decompress, and think about how unexpectedly … nice his day had turned out. He'd come in initially expecting the worst, but here he was, unscathed with a new mug to call his own. He turned his mug in his hands, reading the words printed on it again. "World's Okayest Coworker." He looked at Joan's empty seat. There was a hazy outline of her, a quickly fading remnant of her energy. He held the mug a little tighter.

Actually, yes, he did feel okay.