It made her ill thinking about it but for differing reasons. Sofia hated the idea of him waking up and her not being there, of thinking she’d dropped him and run, of him being alone in the room and thinking that literally no one cared about it. “He doesn’t have anyone else,” Sofia stated, because in that moment she didn’t know how wrong she was about that. “I’m not going to be holding his hand and doting on him, I’m getting him clothes so he doesn’t have to leave the place half naked. I’ll drop the stuff off, see him when he wakes up and go to work,” she stated, unsure if she was lying to herself in that moment, certainly she was lying to him.
“Watch out for the dog,” she said as they rolled through the woods, sure Seymour was outside the trailer, probably whining about being let inside, wondering where Roman or Sofia were.
A werewolf, that sounded on brand, and besides, if you were going to seek out a species to fuck without having to get too invested in their personal kinks werewolves tended to be easy enough. “A mullet man with an art gallery really does feel like that sort of eclectic bullshit that would draw in those fake arse art people,” Sofia commented of the more specific information about his life, since sleeping with someone felt more immediate than the life change that came with a hair cut. “You should do it though, sneak in some items from Pawnland and if people notice say it’s a comment on society’s waste,” she joked.
“Which werewolf? Would I know them?” she asked, allowing their conversation to distract somewhat from the emotions presently washing through her. “Cause, you know, that guy I met in the caves who freaked out when I asked him to call me ‘mommy’ was a wolf, I’d love to know if he liked any other weird things, I gave his number to Saylor.”
“ever considered that’s his own doing?” jean-claude enquired at the statement. some people didn’t have anyone else because they didn’t want to, or simply because everyone else who’d tried to get close was immediately put off. you couldn’t complain about being alone or feeling alone, and then be an odious person. that’s what j.c thought anywho.
“i’m not watching out for the dog,” was the instant reply, as j.c wasn’t particularly fond of the animals. it’s not like he was a cat person either; the vampire much preferred birds. especially those colourful ones that talked back in funny voices, very cute. there was no sign of it though as the car travelled deeper and deeper into the woods.
the art gallery really was something he would like to do, however, though the pawn shop had been the cheaper buy at the time. “there’s a fine line between artsy and artsy bullshit. they can see through that stuff a mile off. the trick is to be completely sincere and - i’m not,” the vampire chuckled, the headlights eventually reflecting off the outer shell of a trailer in the middle of the woods. barking accompanied their entrance into the clearing where it sat.
“well, there it is, casa el paradise,” j.c said, glancing over at her. “elora is her name. we do the same thing,” he wiggled his fingers, meaning of course their shared ability. “the mommy and daddy thing freaks me out. freud really was right, we all just wanna fuck our parents,”
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