BASICS:
Name: Kenji “Ken” Matsui
Age: 30 37
Occupation: Lawyer
Species: Vampire
About Page: click here // Full Bio: click here
PERSONALITY:
Positive: Determined, Competitive, Protective
Negative: Blunt, Apathetic, Callous
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@kenxmatsui
BASICS:
Name: Kenji “Ken” Matsui
Age: 30 37
Occupation: Lawyer
Species: Vampire
About Page: click here // Full Bio: click here
PERSONALITY:
Positive: Determined, Competitive, Protective
Negative: Blunt, Apathetic, Callous
There was enough of a lull in patrons that Rory could get away with chatting for a minute or too, so she loosely crossed her arms over her chest and nodded. “Yeah, that's fair. I'm sure there's plenty who actively chose this life, just as much as those who didn't. And I'm sure, y'know, randomly being human again after so long would be an inconvenience,” she conceded with a sheepish smile. His bluntness took her a bit surprised, but then again from her previous experiences with Ken, she shouldn't have been too shocked. She shrugged, continuing, “Yeah...Yeah, I guess I still do. I mean, I'm grateful, y'know. To still be alive. But I miss the little things. Like the taste of a good latte, for example,” she smirked, gesturing at his drink. “Hey, ‘acceptable’ is practically a commendation from you, so I'll take it.”
Ken hummed softly into his cup, acknowledging the point. "I suppose that's the problem with becoming accustomed to anything." There was a certain irony to it. Things had stopped feeling unusual and started to feel like the standard, not normal by any means, but he had grown accustomed to the life. Yet, now that had faded, or maybe fully gone he didn't know, and he was left noticing all the things he had stopped paying attention to. At her admission, he gave a small nod. "Grateful is good enough." Gaze drifted briefly to the coffee in his hand. "Yes, I'm starting to see that. Little things." He understood the sentiment well enough. "Let's not get carried away," he scoffed, "but sure, treasure it."
"Here," She extended the glass she'd poured over to him. "And like I'd ever skip you," She murmured softly over to him, shooting him a knowing look as she moved to take a seat in the living room and motioned with a tilt of her head for him to join her. "That seems right, if I were to guess, from the sound of your heartbeat," She observed, which seemed to sound a bit more mortal-like than it had before. "Could be worse, though. You could sprout wings from your back whenever your emotions get the best of you and could have a partner who desires to move out into the woods in isolation rather than risk hurting you," She grumbled under her breath as she took a swig of her own drink. "What's on your mind, given that I can't currently read it? And the truth. No need to sugarcoat with me."
Ken accepted the glass with a quiet word of thanks before settling into the offered seat. A slow sip followed, the burn of the whiskey earning his immediate approval. He didn't comment right away on the mention of his heartbeat. Instead, his gaze dropped briefly to the amber liquid swirling in his glass. "Mhm. I haven't gotten used to it yet."
He caught only fragments of what Meena muttered under her breath, which immediately earned a faint furrow of his brow. Another thing to add to the growing list of annoyances. The more time passed, the more he disliked this state of being. Still, with the room being quiet as it was, and with his attention fixed on her, he managed to piece together a few words. Wings. Emotions. Woods. "I'd rather have neither," he admitted. "Having to monitor your emotions constantly sounds exhausting. I can barely manage my own on a good day. You've always struck me as level-headed, though. Has someone irritated you lately?" The mention of the woods took another moment to connect. "Oh. JC? Isn't that his natural habitat?" He delivered the joke dryly. "Does he want to run away?"
At her request for honesty, silence lingered for a moment. Ken was not someone who often dissected his own thoughts aloud, but if there was anyone he could be direct with, it was Meena. "I'm annoyed," he said finally, punctuating the admission with a quiet huff. "I spent years adapting to being a vampire. Learning what that meant. Building a life around it and with it. Then someone sticks a needle in me and suddenly I'm...this." He gestured vaguely at himself. "The absurd part is that I've spent just as long wishing I'd never become a vampire in the first place. I'm not having a crisis, mind you. I'm simply realising how much of my routine, my instincts, were tied to being a vampire." Not letting the words settle, Ken drained his glass. "It's fucking irritating."
"Today? No, I can't. Didn't you know? Your birthday is the one day of the year that your wife is stuck to you like glue." She flashed him a teasing grin from where she sat, right at home, snuggled in his lap. "There is nowhere else on earth I'd rather be," Leyla promised him without a semblance of a doubt.
"Honestly, I never expected to make it to fifteen, let alone thirty-two," She admitted quietly under her breath. She thought she was a goner the moment Hande had shown up on her doorstep and every day after that had felt like she had been fighting for survival, until now. "I think you'd look very handsome regardless. Distinguished even. You'd age like fine wine," She teased. Her thumb traced along his jawline as she took a moment to simply soak him in before she did admit quietly under her breath, "And anyway, if this does wind up being permanent, it probably won't, but if it does, I'd choose to age with you. I just might give it a few years though just cause if I start aging again, then from what I've been told that would kinda be it. There wouldn't be another off switch. And mhm," A soft giggle broke from her lips as his hands slid around her waist and pulled her closer. "Depends. Am I the dessert? Or are you referring to the cupcake because in that case, you could always have both? At the same time even."
“Is that so?” Ken asked, trying to not let the smile widen. His arm tightened slightly around her waist, drawing her a fraction closer as if to ensure she remained exactly where she claimed she wanted to be. "A tragic fate. Forced to spend an entire day with your husband." He shook his head solemnly. "How ever will you survive?"
The teasing soon faded and expression softened. He knew about the things she had to face, and thought it rightfully pissed him off, he knew this was not the time to show that anger. "Well," he said softly after a moment, :for what it's worth, I'm very glad both of us turned out to be wrong." And he was. More than he could adequately put into words.
Ken shook his head, "No. Let's not jump into that yet. There has to be more this nonsense and I think we'll only know with time." Unwilling to sit in that seriousness for too long, he immediately seized the lifeline she provided. "Both."
END.
Lupe didn't stop herself from rolling her eyes again. Kenji always acted like he knew better than everyone else, but it was easy to see through his guise. She'd never say anything about it, because that wasn't the type of relationship they had. She was the enforcement, he was the argument. There wasn't really a situation in which they would ever really get along, even if he was on her side for something. Life just didn't work that way, she supposed.
Getting up from her desk, she rifled through her keys and unlocked the cell, swinging the door open. "Alright, Barry," she ushered, giving a sweeping gesture from door to vampire lawyer, "you're free to go. Try and stay out of trouble for, like, at least month this time, yeah?"
The teenager just gave a pearly white, innocent grin, before slinking out and over to Ken. Lupe rolled her eyes yet again. "Have a good day, Matsui. I'm sure I'll see you again sooner than either of us would like."
END.
END.
Lupe watched Ken's expression closely as he read over the document that Barry had so willingly signed. He was lucky he hadn't been driving, otherwise the punishment would've been much more severe, even with Ken as his lawyer. Really, (and not that Lupe would ever admit this out loud) the teenager was lucky to have Ken on his side. He was too good at his job to be bailing bratty kids out of the drunk tank. It was why he was such a pain in her ass. "Like I said, it's a misdemeanor. It's not even going on his record."
She folded her arms tighter over her chest. "We're not pursuing trespassing charges, no." Mostly because they were too easily dismissed. It was the underage drinking that they'd been more concerned with, and this wasn't Mister Bartholomew's first offense on that, either. So. "Oh, don't tell me about it. He's got a court summons. You can both tell the judge what you want." She leaned forward, miming dusting her hands off. "My job here is done. No lecture needed. Unless you're really itching for one. I've got a few different ones I can cycle through?"
Ken gave a small nod as she mentioned the court summons, seemingly satisfied that the matter had finally moved on. "Good," he said simply. "A court summons I can work with." He closed the folder and gathered the documents with precision. At the offer of a lecture, however, his expression flattened. "No, thank you." He gathered the paperwork into a neat stack. "Besides, if you start cycling through multiple speeches, we might be here all night, and despite popular belief, I do have better things to do."
There was little else worth discussing. The intoxication charge would proceed as it would, Barry would answer for his own poor decisions, and Lupe would continue believing she was doing the lord's work every time she hauled a teenager into a holding cell. It wasn't anything inspiring. Ken was here to do his job and he had. The paperwork mattered. Disagreements were routine. The rest was just nuisance.
Once everything was in order, he gave her a nod, "I'll speak with his father and we'll address the summons when the time comes." Ken then extended a hand towards the cell, "Whenever you're ready, Sheriff."
Daniel wasted no time placing the books on the counter. "They've already been paid for." The store he had in New York had been a great trial run on how to run a bookstore. Efficiency was key. "There are quite a few options here. It can be overwhelming." The vampire took pride in the selection of books he had crafted for patrons. New Leaf had just about everything and anything a reader's heart desired. "I might have a few. If there aren't any in stock, I can easily order them. She's quite the adventurous reader. What has she suggested recently that you've enjoyed? There's nothing wrong with that. They are classics for a reason. There are certain ones I come back to every year."
Ken's gaze dropped briefly to the stack of books already waiting on the counter before returning to Daniel. "Good." At the mention of the selection, his eyes swept briefly across the shelves again. "Overwhelming isn't exactly the word for me," he said, "I just never indulge in such things." Even now with nothing but time stretching endlessly, hobbies still weren't something Ken gravitated towards. "Yes, I know you do. Every time she comes home with one book, three somehow materialise behind it. That's a good question. This is not recent but she gave me Great Expectations once, and I've read that about fifteen times." His tone indicated that it was not an exaggeration. "Leyla tends to hand me books and I just read them, but not always to till the end. Her taste is fine, but I don't enjoy everything. What are the ones you come back to?"
“I mean, I guess that depends on how you see it,” She shrugged, shoving her hands in her apron pockets. “I think there's probably a fair amount of vampires who'd prefer to get the taste for lattes back,” She doesn't mention that she'd be one of them, that she would give anything to not crave the sanguine sustenance and that her favorite foods now left a bad taste in her mouth. She only gives a small smile and another one shouldered shrug. Though his frustration is evident, and she feels for his predicament, Rory can't help the amusement that makes her smile grow, an eyebrow raised. “Well, I could definitely take the credit for the taste if that would help. Wouldn't want to be accused of my skills getting rusty.”
Ken gave a small hum at that, fingers loosely curled around the coffee cup as he considered her point. "Perhaps," he admitted. "Though I'm sure there are vampires who will say that it's rather inconvenient being human again." He didn't think he would fall into that category, not with how much he had wanted to be human again in the past, but somewhere along the way alongside circumstances, mind had also changed. He looked back at her then, "I take you miss your human life?"
Her smile did not go unnoticed though, and when she offered to take credit for the drink, he shook his head slightly, "Oh, absolutely not. Do not let that inflate your ego," he replied immediately, though there was no real bite to his words. "Your skills remain acceptable."
"Oh! If you want a pair of slippers," She motioned with a tilt of her head, where she kept the guest ones, all still in their packaging, to make it clear that they were clean and could be taken as a souvenir, given that they were designer. "You can help yourself. Up to you and ah, well, you and I both it would seem. Care for a drink?" She offered, knowing that given the way this conversation was going, she'd likely be wanting one. It was surprisingly harder to keep one's emotions in check when you were concerned with sprouting bat wings out of your back. "Let me guess, it has something to do with why I can't hear your thoughts?" She tilted a knowing brow up at him as she began to pour herself a rather strong glass of whiskey. "So what side effects did ichor leave you with?"
It shouldn't have been surprising, nor was he, that she had designer slippers for guests, he slipped into them and nodded at the offer of a drink. "Thank you, that would be appreciated." He watched her pour herself a glass, and requested for the same. "Equally as strong as yours would be ideal, if you don't mind." For a moment he seemed to consider how exactly to phrase it before deciding straightforwardness was the way to go. "Yes, that would be one of the reasons why. I also don't have any of my abilities. Figured it would take a day or two to return since something vaguely similar happened once before, but nothing yet." His mouth pressed to a thin line. "And blood tastes revolting now," he added with visible disdain. "Leyla's guess, and I'm inclined to agree, is that I'm human now."
"Yeah. Fuck gravity," She mumbled under her breath. Sneaking a peek up his way, her cheeks flushed a rosy red over the fact that she had just intentionally sworn. "Magic?" Leyla blinked up at him. Her blush deepening as she lifted herself up onto her tiptoes so that she could press a light kiss against his cheek.
"I- wasn't trying to fall out of the sky?" She winced. Her mouth grew dry as she swallowed, only imagining what he must have thought seeing her fumble like that. "I never said it would, but I'm really not? I'm trying, but," She chewed on her bottom lip as the thought crossed her mind that she very well might never be able to fly again. "Whoa, hey," Her brows knitted as she bumped her hip against his. "Who said anything about you not being around? You're my good luck charm. I need you always."
"Oh! Flowers," Her eyes lit up as she gave his arm a tug, dragging him with her to where the bouquet had been dropped. It might've been a little crumbled, but nothing a little tlc when they got home couldn't fix, and anyways, it gave them... character? "I love them, thank you!" She exclaimed, kissing him on the cheek again. "What? No, why? I like these ones," She protectively held onto the crumbled flowers. But, now that they were safely in hand, she had no problem with him leading her to the car. "Welp, it's good thing I said it then, huh? And not you, Mr. Best Husband. And dunno? Some place with just the two of us, please."
Ken gasped, and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead in a very dramatic fashion, "Christ, you swore! Are you okay!" The act lasted all of two seconds before the laugh he'd been trying to suppress finally slipped free, and seeing her blush afterward only made the amusement linger longer across his face.
Seeing her expression shift though, so did his. "I know you weren't. Sorry, it's unfortunately where my mind went to." Even now, after years, the memory hit like something physical. He placed a soft kiss to her forehead, "You are trying, And I'm glad you are. That's what I meant before about maybe keeping distance while you practice. Not forever, just for a bit, so if ever you lose balance, I'm not around to stop the progress by panicking. That's what I meant. I probably just need to train my mind to not think of the worst." He never considered himself to be a good luck charm, she was that to him, but he smiled all the same, "And I'm going to be around always," he promised, "I'll be better. So keep flying, alright?"
He almost protested at her picking the bouquet back up, brows furring together at the sight. "It would not be difficult to get you another one. Easier even. But alright." A resigned sigh left him, and let the issue go with one final look at the way she clutched the flowers. He shouldn't have been surprised knowing her. "Just the two of us can always be arranged. Let's go for a little drive."
"What?" She fluttered her lashes innocently over at him. "Okay, okay. Your loss on the singing, but yes! I'm very satisfied, thank you," Leyla practically beamed. But, not because of the wish. Because of this. The hint of a laugh he was trying to stiffen back. The smile that spread across his lips despite himself and the way seeing him happy never ceased to give her stomach butterflies even after all of this time. "Where else would I be?" She whispered softly over to him. Her nose lightly grazed his before she sat back in his lap.
"Technically, you turned thirty-seven," She gave him a light poke in the chest. "But if you mean aging-wise, then I suppose you have. What's it like? Feel any different?" She asked him curiously, given that she had hit her prime at the age of twenty-eight herself. "Well, I guess we'll figure it out with time and see how long it lasts?" She offered up. "Like I love you and am along for the ride, so whatever way we end up feeling about it, just let me know. And oh? What would give you that idea?" She couldn't help, but tease as she began to lift his shirt up a bit more.
"You could quite literally be anywhere else," Ken replied with a small shrug. And yet, when she settled back into his lap, his arm slipped easily across her legs, keeping her there without thought, because by now, holding her close had simply become instinctive. "Not that I'm complaining you're here, of course."
At the mention of his age, he gave a slight nod. "Yes, ageing-wise. Honestly, I never expected to make it to thirty, let alone thirty-seven." That remained the strangest part of it sometimes. Not the vampirism, not the immortality, which had its own moments of reflection, but the fact that despite all of it, despite everything that should have destroyed any chance at a normal life, he had somehow still ended up here. Sitting like this with her. Loved. It still caught him off guard more than he would ever admit aloud. "No, I don't think I feel much different." He didn't know if he was supposed to. "Yes, of course, we'll figure it out together." But thinking on it, a thought did occur and Ken felt an immediate need to address it. "If I find even one grey hair, or a wrinkle, you will hear about it constantly. Daily, perhaps. I'll become unbearable," he warned, which was undercut by the quiet laugh that escaped him. "Just a hunch," he murmured, leaning in to kiss her, "You've been so subtle about it." His hand slid around her waist, pulling her closer, "Dessert now or later?"
Lupe rolled her eyes. "Ay, dios mio," she muttered, rubbing her temples. "It's a misdemeanor, Matsui. Are you so strapped for work that you need to show up to help bail a teenager out of the drunk tank?" She tapped the folder on her desk before pushing it closed. She chose to ignore his jab at her job, mostly because she often made jabs at his. The two had never really gotten along. It wasn't as if Lupe hated Ken, but god damn if he wasn't a thorn in her side. Especially when they clashed with every interaction, considering their opposing jobs.
Lupe bristled, watching him place the paperwork on her desk. But, then she smirked. She waved it away. "I'm sure you can talk him out of the trespassing charges with whatever you've cooked up in here," she started, "but I think a seventeen year old blowing a .18 on the breath test might be a little harder to finagle him out of." In turn, she opened her own folder back up and held out the paper results, signed by Bartholomew himself. "Since you like paperwork so much."
Leaning back in her chair, perhaps a bit too smug, she crossed her arms over her chest. "It's a fine or community service, your choice. If you'd like to discuss this with your client--" she gave a sweeping motion towards the detention cell-- "be my guest."
"Hardly," he replied smoothly. "This is an extra case for quick and effective legal quick cleanup. The Hearst's require prompt action involving decisions their children make." He didn't think that required further explaining.
Scanning the results, and seeing the signature, he turned to Barry's cell, noting the pleading and apologetic look the boy gave him, which of course, was met with an expression that hardly disclosed what Ken was thinking. But, he was sure Barry felt the disappointment in his stare. "Well. That certainly limits the range on choices. No matter. I'm sure we can reach an arrangement." And by that he meant, he'd already decided on the desired conclusion.
"I don't imagine the trespassing charge will survive very long under scrutiny considering there was voluntary cooperation, no property damage, and no attempt to resist detention. Which, I hoped you knew already already." The smugness Lupe wore earned nothing more than a cool glance in return. "No. A teenager with a blood alcohol level that high does not require creative legal manoeuvring, we'll pay the fine. I'll contact his father and have the arrangements handled." He began to gather the paperwork neatly back together. "Though if you feel compelled to deliver a speech about accountability before his impending release, I won't deprive you of the opportunity. I suspect you've been rehearsing one since he arrived."
"Joining certainly isn't mandatory unless you're interested in the perks," Ben said amicably. He didn't think that Ken cared. Thinking it over, he tried to consider the best way to approach this. "You're asking what it's like to be human in town, not just human, correct?" He started. "Because they... aren't that different. I mean, there are less humans here than there are outside of town, but a human being is still a human being. You're weaker, physicall, and you age, but you also aren't controlled by the phases of the moon, have to drink blood, or are incapable of lying. There's downsides and perks to everything, including being human."
Ken nearly smiled at the mention of perks, and whatever commentary threatened to surface there was wisely abandoned before it reached his mouth. "Yes, to this town. I know what being human entails. I spent most of my life as one. What I mean is that I never expected to feel like one again." Because nearly ten years was long enough for certain things to stop feeling strange and start feeling natural. Strength had become natural. Speed. Healing. The constant awareness that he could survive almost anything. And now all of it was simply gone.
"I'm not weighing up a pros and cons list, Ben, I understand the logistics. I'm asking because for the better part of a decade, vulnerability stopped being something I had to actively think about, but now, in this strange in-between, it's all I'm thinking about. And I refuse to bring my life to a stand still. I'm interested in what you meant with saying they aren't different when I see so many."
The younger Matsui looked confused. "Wait a minute.." Renzō made an attempt at understanding why a vampire would willingly eat vegetables. "Why were you eating vegetables as a vampire?" He knew exactly what he'd eat if he'd never age or get sick and it all ended in "o's". "You should've been chowing down on Doritos, Cheetos, Fritos, and Peggy's while you could." The witch momentarily paused before adding. "When you can again? I'll send you my favorite Pizza Joe's order. It's gas." Renzō nodded in agreement with himself. "Something to drink? How about some sake?"
"Because I still ate human food," Ken replied with a shrug, like it should've been self-explanatory. "Leyla and I like cooking, and she still needs to eat actual meals. I wasn't going to make her sit there eating alone while I hovered around with a cup of blood like a fucking creep." And over time, it had become more than blending in. Sharing meals with her had settled into something familiar, something good, something he enjoyed.
As Renzō continued enthusiastically listing off what he should apparently be eating now, Ken's expression underwent a gradual but visible transformation from mild concern to being horrified. "Stop," he said, lifting a hand as though physically warding the words away. "I genuinely cannot hear any more of this." There was a beat of silence as he stared at him in utter disbelief. "If I had the power to do so, I'd shut Peggy's down so fast it would make your head spin. I've never stepped foot in that place and I never will. Something about it radiates food poisoning." A shudder ran through him at the thought alone. Then came the pizza suggestion, and Ken blinked at him slowly. "Excuse me? Why would I willingly consume something that tastes like gas?" His face twisted further with disdain. "Don't send me any of that shit. I don't like pizza and I also hate Joe's." That particular hatred remained impressively consistent over the years.
The second Renzō mentioned sake, Ken shut that down immediately too. "No. Absolutely not. You're having tea." His tone left no room for negotiation. "It's good for your immune system, full of antioxidants, and unlike everything else you've suggested so far, it won't actively shorten your lifespan."
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As Guadalupe stared, unimpressed, at the teenage boy slurring his words inside her detention cell, she couldn't help but muse on how ridiculous the whole thing was. Really, there'd been plenty of kids draped all over the water tower when Lupe and another deputy had arrived, following up on a noise complaint. Once their lights were flicked on, most everyone had scattered like cats in a rainstorm, bolting for the woods or their cars.
Bartholomew here, however, had sauntered casually down the ladder, beer can in one hand, a cigarette in the other. Even as Lupe and the other deputy approached, all he'd done was stand there with a goofy, self-satisfied grin on his face, dripping with privilege and entitlement. "Really?" Lupe had huffed, plucking the can from his outstretched hand. "You wanna add underage drinking, too?" The boy had simply pitched forward and waggled his brows, as if he already knew whatever happened tonight Daddy Dearest was going to bail him out.
That hadn't stopped Lupe from slapping a cuff on his hand.
Now, just a tad more sober, the kid was complaining about how uncomfortable the seats inside the cell were. "It's a jail cell, Barry," Lupe said from her desk, "it's not supposed to be comfortable."
Not a moment later, though, the door to the precinct swung open and in swaggered none other than Matsui, Kenji. "Ah, see," Lupe shook her head, "I thought I smelled something podrido."
Not having quite enough time to prepare his patience Ken stepped into the precinct with the kind of composed irritation that suggested he had been inconvenienced long before he ever walked through the door. His gaze went first to Bartholomew in the holding cell, and whatever faint relief appeared on the teenager's face at his texts to his father being addressed, immediately died under the look Ken gave him.
"Mr. Matsui, I can expl—"
"No," Ken held up a finger for silence as he approached. "You cannot."
Ken stared at him for a long moment through the bars, disappointment settling heavier than annoyance ever could. Keeping his voice on the quieter side, he spoke on the situation. "You were caught drunk on top of the water tower." A pause. "By local law enforcement." Another pause. "While underage."
"Everyone else ran, and—"
"And you stayed," Ken said dryly. "A fascinating strategic choice. Your father will be immensely proud of you, I'm sure." Ken had dealt with their family for years now, and the tone he took with Bartholomew was not anything new to the boy. If anything it seemed to have sobered him up. Telling him to sit for a few more minutes till he sorted things out, Ken turned to face more nuisance. The slight insult from Lupe hadn't gone by unnoticed, still, he kept his composure.
"Sheriff. Yes, I'm not surprised you smell that. Look at where you stand." The title was polite. The rest of what he said less so as he glanced around the place. "Pray tell why you continue sounding surprised every time someone exercises their right to legal representation?" Expression switched then to that distinct way that always made conversations with him feel faintly adversarial.
"I was contacted by Mr. Hearst to process his son's release. I imagine the lesson about poor decision making has already been delivered with all the theatrical satisfaction your department could hope for. Christ knows you've been starved for something to do." He withdrew paperwork and placed it neatly onto the desk. "Unless you intend to argue that sitting on a water tower constitutes as an ongoing threat to public safety, I assume we can expedite this process." A brief silence followed before he added, almost as an afterthought. "Perhaps if there are future cases with others, you can skip treating the situation like a federal crime, yes? There really are far more pressing concerns for your department to focus on."
"Really? Okay! Then happy birthday!" She exclaimed happily, tossing her arms around his neck and showering him with kisses the moment he said that she could say the words out loud. It was only at the mention of his forgetting to make a wish that her eyes narrowed in on him into momentarily slits before she reasoned, "No matter. We'll just do a do-over." Reaching over to grab the lighter, she relit the cupcake. "There. Take two, and if you want, I'll even sing you Happy Birthday all Marilyn Monroe-like to ensure the wish definitely goes through," She teased. It didn't actually matter all too much to her that he hadn't made a wish. She just wanted him to have the best day she could possibly give him, given the circumstances, because while this day might be a day he'd rather forget, she couldn't fathom not celebrating the fact that he was still here with her, alive and well, even if it was only her doing the celebrating.
"I'm not being guarded with you?" She blinked over at him before she registered how he could've taken her words. "Oh, no! I just," She inhaled a breath before she went on to explain in a rather rambled explanation. "I don't think you're going to be mad at me. I mean, why would you be? I didn't stab you with some questionable and hopefully sanitary needle. I just meant that I think whatever stabilizer that Prometheus person injected you with either was the actual working stabilizer, which would mean that you're temporarily mortal or powerless, as you put it, until whatever drug is in your system finally wears off, or the stabilizer might've worked too well and it might've cured you of your vampirism permanently, if that's even possible? I'm not sure if it even would be, but stranger things have happened, and given that the ichor hasn't seemed to wear off yet, it either eventually will or you will be like this indefinitely. But either way, I just wasn't sure how you might take being human again? I don't know if we should celebrate or enjoy while it lasts and try to make the most of what is a less-than-ideal situation? Maybe not less than ideal in terms of being temporarily human, but the way it wound up happening? It feels like a violation, and I mean, I know we're both sort of stepping into the unknown here. We know you can't access your abilities, but does that mean that you still need blood to live or can you sustain yourself off the same food as me? Though regardless," She let out a breath as her eyes locked on his once more. "Of all of the what-ifs we're going to figure out together, I just, I guess I wanted to know what you're thinking? Because if we're happy about it, then say the word and we spend the day cooking together, all of your favorite foods and sweets, and see if they taste better now, and maybe see what other things might be different without your powers," She teased, as she gave the hem of his shirt a light tug followed by a suggestive smile. "But, if we're not happy about it, then we can just lie here and talk or not talk and worry about it tomorrow or the next day or the day after that. So, what are you thinking?"
The second she threw her arms around his neck, Ken let out a quiet sound somewhere between amusement and resignation, one hand settling instinctively at her waist as she covered his face in kisses, already smiling despite himself. Ken watched with faint disbelief as she relit the candle with complete determination, his expression turning further with amusement at the offer that followed. "Leyla..." But that's far as his protests went. "Alright alight. No singing please." He leaned forward, humour causing his head to give a little shake at her antics before he blew the candle out a second time. "There," he said. "Satisfied? I made a wish this round. Very official."
The teasing faded gradually as she started explaining herself, and by the time she reached the middle of her theory, he had gone quiet entirely. Not withdrawn but just listening in the way he often did. His gaze stayed fixed on her as she rambled through possibilities, concerns, theories, every thought tumbling out faster than she could properly organise it. Somewhere in the middle of it, a corner of his mouth tugged upward faintly with soft affection. He placed a feather light kiss to her cheek when she finally stopped, and allowed himself a moment of sentimentality on this day. "Thank you," he said softly. "For being here." Because even when faced with the unknown, even thinking on and about worst-case scenarios, she was still trying to figure out how to make this easier for him.
"I think your theory might be correct." There was no point denying it now. He felt it already in every dulled instinct, every ache that lingered, every absence where power used to sit naturally beneath his skin. "Granted it's only been a day but with blood tasting revolting and Food tasting..." he glanced briefly toward the cupcake. "Better than it ever used to, something has been altered significantly. I don't k now if it's a few days ordeal or something longer but..." A faint scoff followed at something he realised. "Though, if I am human again..." he looked at her, "I've turned thirty today." His hand drifted absent-mindedly along her side as he spoke, grounding himself more than anything else. "I don't know what I'm supposed to think yet." That was the truth of it when so much was unknown still. "I can't say I'm happy, but I'm not unhappy either? Need time, I suppose. How do you feel about all this?" He gave her a shrug while his mind began to process through it. "I'll do anything you want, canım. Though this," he pointed to her smile and the way she tugged at his shirt, "tells me you have something in mind in mind already."
"Yeah," She let out a small groan as she shielded her hands over her face, stiffening back an embarrassed laugh and another small whimper as he carefully helped her up. "I'm okay. It's only my ego that's bruised," She mumbled out as she moved to wrap her arms instinctively around his waist the second she was greeted by him. "It's not Nyra's fault," She mumbled against his chest. "She told me to take it easy. I just thought I'd give it one more go. But," She snuck a peek up at him as she asked. "I have twigs in my hair now, don't I? So much for trying to surprise you with how much better at flying I'm getting. I guess I'll actually have to get better at flying first, huh? But, huh?"
Her gaze followed his up to the clouds, only for her eyes to grow wide as she watched the balloons drift upward. "You got me balloons? Why are you the best husband ever? And okidokie. Where are we going?" She asked, weaving her hand into his to sweep her away wherever it is he'd like without a second thought.
Ken let out a slow breath the moment her arms wrapped around him properly, his own wrapping around her a little tighter, feeling some of the tension finally ease now that he could see for himself that she was alright. But he still wasn't entirely pleased by any of this. At her defence of Nyra, he rolled his eyes lightly. "Fine. I'll redirect my irritation toward gravity then." The remark softened at the edges as he looked back down at her. There were, in fact, twigs in her hair. "Yes," he answered honestly and carefully, began to pluck one free from her hair, then another, expression finally loosening into fondness. "Somehow still very cute, how do you do that, hmm?"
He shook his head lightly, "You realise that from my perspective you were falling from the sky, right? That's not something I'd ever respond well to. But, don't worry about all that or even bruised egos, you're doing well. It's nothing short of admirable that you're flying again. It'll take practice...and me not being around to ruin your progress."
His eyes followed hers upward as the balloons continued their slow escape into the clouds. "I did," he admitted. "And flowers too," he pointed to the bouquet on the pavement a few feet away. "I clearly should've held onto both those with a tighter grip. Sorry. I'll get you new ones." When her hand slipped into his, his thumb brushed instinctively across her knuckles before he started guiding her away to where he had parked. "I wouldn't say best. It's your birthday, I can't not do anything for you." he said simply. "I made reservations, but we have time till then. Where would you like to go?"