ŷ������

I wanted to come right out and ask if he worked black magic. But he might say yes, and then I'd have to decide what I was going to do about it.

WHY?! Why couldn't you have just gone with that feeling, Rachel? Gah.

"I'm gong to get a cat," Ivy said tightly. "A big, black cat . . . "
"Good think you escaped when you did," Jenks said, swinging the ladle to send gleams of light about the kitchen. "Ivy was about to throw what little she has left after you--again."
"I will call my cat Pixy Dust," Ivy said. "I will keep it in the garden and not feed it."

Lolz.

I cracked an eyelid as Trent rose from his desk and strode restlessly to his music discs arranged in a recessed shelf beside the player. He cut a nice figure as he stood before them, so intent on his choice that he didn't realize I was rating his backside: 9.5 out of 10. I took the .5 off for most of his physique being hidden behind a business suit that cost more than some cars.

But still very nice ;)

"Good afternoon, Ms. Morgan."

Good afternoon, Mr. Kalamack. *waggles eyebrows*

"Don't be a flirt. Red wine is passé." *snorts* "Try an apple or something equally crunchy."
Damn.
"Not all vampires are alike. Find out if your lover likes pillow talk. Foreplay can take many forms. A conversation about past ties and bloodlines is sure to strike a chord and stir pride . . . "
Double damn. I was a harlot. I was a freaking vampire hussy.

Whoopsie. *giggle snorts*

"It's a church," I said.
"No shit, Sherlock. Wait until you see the garden."
I stood unmoving. "It's a church."
Jenks hovered, waiting for me. "There's a huge yard in back. Great for parties."
"Jenks," I said through gritted teeth. "It's a church. The backyard is a graveyard."

Ivy forgot to mention that . . . ehehehe.

Still uneasy, I looked up to find the musician making a beeline for me . . . "Come to hear me play, beautiful?"
" . . . Come and see my big pipe in the van," the kid said. "Bet you could make it sing-g-g-g."
" . . . Go away," I repeated, but he only leaned back and screwed his face up, singing, "Sue-sue-sussudio" in a high falsetto, pounding on the table in a broken rhythm.

Hahahaha.

And though a lone human sticks out among Inderlanders like a zit on a prom queen's face . . .

Oh, how I've missed the Rachel-isms.

Alright. Time to start this thing.