closed for: @elysiumkerr
He'd promised her before the masquerade that she'd see his process. Now that she's forgotten most of it - and the mark on her neck from it is healing (though the thought of someone else digging their fangs into her neck fills him with a wash of rage and envy that has nothing to do with his choice of occupation) - he's ready to start allowing her to see more of him.
The meeting place was set to be the junkyard. It's similar to where he'd met Reid months prior, only this time he's not turning someone to gather his art. His bag is slung over his shoulders, gloves pulled over his hands still.
He finds his spot, and sets his things down and turns to her - holding out a water bottle, tinged with green. "Drink this." If she hasn't been already, the verbena will protect her from the feral nature of this one. "Before we begin, what have you learned of your obsessions lately?" He wants to know if she remembers anything of the party or if she's been around others who've spoken to her of Port Leiry's nightstalkers.
