“Who’s Aurora?†Chloe asked, visibly agitated, forcing herself to focus intently on this line of inquiry. “Is she someone who could fix this?â€
Lochlann turned away from the window, taking two or three lazy steps and willing the energy he had left to turn human again. As it was, that was a bad idea. Loch didn't realize how drained he was, and his return prompted him to lean heavily against the wall, his legs shaking.
His wrist hurt. His head hurt. He wanted another drink. He wanted to pass out. He wanted to hold someone.
He had an idea, though, but it was a bad one. He took a few steps and stumbled onto the ground, messing up the circle and the patterns and smearing his blood across the floor, but he found what he was looking for--the marker he'd try to use on the floor before he realized they were talking about making the markings in blood.
"Let me see your hand," he said, kneeling before her. If she would give him her hand, he would hastily scroll a room number across it. If not, he'd just sit there, looking up at her with a vacant expression.
He was looking out the window again. It was clear that something was off, some kind of disconnect. "If you ever change your mind, about sleeping with someone, I mean, just...give me a call. I'm good at it. I can make it worth your while."
He said this the way other people said I'm good at driving stick shift or I'm very good at writing. It was objective fact, with little or no emotion behind it.
"Chloe, I'm so very tired. We can see Aurora in the morning. She's all the way in the admin wing, usually, or upstairs in the music room, and I'm too tired to walk you there now."
He was still on his knees. It was becoming clearer and clearer, even through his drunken haze, that Lochlann was not getting up. His voice was still slurred and his eyes drooped heavily.
He would probably wake up here tomorrow morning with no idea where he was or what had happened. It was one of those kinds of nights.
he was drunk. You get the picture.
Lochlann turned away from the window, taking two or three lazy steps and willing the energy he had left to turn human again. As it was, that was a bad idea. Loch didn't realize how drained he was, and his return prompted him to lean heavily against the wall, his legs shaking.
His wrist hurt. His head hurt. He wanted another drink. He wanted to pass out. He wanted to hold someone.
He had an idea, though, but it was a bad one. He took a few steps and stumbled onto the ground, messing up the circle and the patterns and smearing his blood across the floor, but he found what he was looking for--the marker he'd try to use on the floor before he realized they were talking about making the markings in blood.
"Let me see your hand," he said, kneeling before her. If she would give him her hand, he would hastily scroll a room number across it. If not, he'd just sit there, looking up at her with a vacant expression.
He was looking out the window again. It was clear that something was off, some kind of disconnect. "If you ever change your mind, about sleeping with someone, I mean, just...give me a call. I'm good at it. I can make it worth your while."
He said this the way other people said I'm good at driving stick shift or I'm very good at writing. It was objective fact, with little or no emotion behind it.
"Chloe, I'm so very tired. We can see Aurora in the morning. She's all the way in the admin wing, usually, or upstairs in the music room, and I'm too tired to walk you there now."
He was still on his knees. It was becoming clearer and clearer, even through his drunken haze, that Lochlann was not getting up. His voice was still slurred and his eyes drooped heavily.
He would probably wake up here tomorrow morning with no idea where he was or what had happened. It was one of those kinds of nights.
he was drunk. You get the picture.