Midnight Romp {HI}

[Stockmon]

What self-respecting man would hit on a nineteen year old girl drunk enough that she forgot what country she was in? Was babbling incoherently, and still kept on drinking? Amalia was fairly certain that no respectable man could do that, but self-respecting? Well they could respect scum, and it wouldn’t bother her. Of course she wasn’t nineteen, she was in her mid fourties, but they didn’t know that. The sun had set within the hour, and the tall pencil pusher who had approached her as soon as she set foot in the pub had been scared off about ten minutes earlier.

The pencil pusher was nice. But that didn’t matter to Amalia, she was on a mission. So be warned. The six foot flat, muscular, play boy that had scared off the pencil pusher was more attractive, but far less lucky. Had he taken it upon himself to make sure no one took advantage of the poor little foreigner, then he would have been alright himself. But he was a player. Amalia took a long drink from her tonic and watched out of the corner of her green eyes as the player looked her up and down. His name wasn’t important, he hadn’t even told her what it was. Though she’d told him her name was Candy. His brown eyes glided over her v-neck sequined brown tank top and tight hip huggers. She’d kicked off her spiked heels and they were under her stool.

“You know, Candy,” The man was saying within a half hour as he kissed Amalia’s neck and gently pushed her against the wall of a building, “you are far too sweet to hang around pubs alone.” She giggled, and said something incoherent. He merely chuckled and pulled her by the hand down the alley. Had he seen the nearly demonic glint in her eye as they walked into the darkness, he might have turned around.

With a scream still ringing in her ears Amalia tried to recall what had been playing at the Hog’s Head before the left. She supposed it didn’t matter, as her mind was distracted by the drops of blood she’d gotten onto her jeans. She scowled, sliding her feet back gingerly into her heels, which she’d dropped at the opening of the alley. It wasn’t an unproductive day, yet somehow she still felt like more. She didn’t know what exactly she wanted, but more of something. Or maybe something new.

She tried to rub the blood out, cursing under her breath as she passed a drunk who was just walking out of a building. He was legitimately drunk, unlike her. He said something, and she hissed at him, flashing her fangs. Clearly she didn’t want an easy meal, as a moment later he ran off. She scoffed, Coward. She made her way through the town with her head down, considering what she wanted to do, since the night was so young as of late. And with so little moral concern, the options were endless, if only she had some inspiration.

[Legan]

Pan didn't usually go out this late. He was probably the most human Vampire on the face of the planet which both frustrated him and kept him sane. He'd rarely even seen the midnight hour in his entire lifetime, for he was either avoiding it or sleeping. Then again, he did have a business to run so it wasn't like sleep wasn't important. That's just how it'd been for the past fifteen years: in bed by no later than ten and up by five to open up shop. The routine was old, however, and tonight he was restless as a caged animal. He knew why too but he refused to indulge in Vampirical pleasures, especially the drinking of the blood. It made him weak, irritable, and deathly sick but it was the price that came with still having a heart metaphorically.

He walked with his hands in his pockets, wearing one of his long water-proof trench coats even though the weather promised no rain and a simple scarf wrapped around his neck. It was a modest outfit that fooled the mortals into thinking he was just another Englishman who had gotten off work late and was returning home.

The night was no different than before. It was just as he remembered it years ago; dark, ominous, and filled with risk-seekers and black shadows.

And with the night certainly came other Vampires.

Pan really had no desire to be with others of his kind, though he did know a few that were most likely considered low-key among some of the cut-throats that were out there. Save for Dimitri and Bella, who was most likely the sweetest and most frustrated girl he'd ever met. Pan understood where she was coming from, sort of. Dimitri wanted to shield her away from the world basically to protect her but Pan saw that it was just making her agitated which could drive her to do more dangerous things. He never called Dimitri on his methods, usually just reading the paper or a book when he did visit their Coven house as they argued either in front of him or in another room. The Coven had basically given up on him after he turned down their offers to stay with them and just probably thought he was some lost, suicidal soul which wasn't far from the truth.

He moved to rub his eyes for he was getting tired. He found that a bit amusing and he chuckled softly. A Vampire, already tired just an hour after sunset. Both pathetic and entertaining. He ran into something, more specifically someone, and removed his hands from his eyes. "Oh, excuse me, miss," he said gently and sincerely, steadying her by her shoulders and locking eyes with her green ones embarrassedly before starting to walk past her. She struck him as odd. A girl like that wandering around at night. Perhaps if he'd been a better Vampire he would have realized what she was before even walking into her but he was growing weary and was certainly out of his element this dark evening.

[Stockmon]

Head down, savoring the memory of a million horrible things that Amalia had done in the past, and then all of a sudden someone bumped into her. Her initial reaction was to push him down and walk away, but she didn’t. It occurred to her, with a shock, that she must be a little irritable. Generally she would act the little innocent strumpet if someone bumped into her, at least since that was her character for the night. But something about this man was confusing her.

“Oh, excuse me, miss.” He said, steadying her by her shoulders. She stiffened at his touch. He looked her in the eye and then started to walk away. She frowned, adopted a concerned expression. It didn’t take her long to realize he was a vampire, and besides, she had caught glimpses of him before, a while back, when he visited Belle and Dimitri. She scowled. Not her favorite people. Actually she didn’t have favorite people. Except family, but she needed to keep them separate from her hatred and vampirism.

He looked like an Englishman, but that didn’t change a thing. She could adapt to whatever culture she wanted, it might take a few years, but she was getting better at it. And since she’d been living around London for a while, she was certainly better. Even if she was from a third world country. But she didn’t tell people where she was from, even the vampires. No one knew too much about her. Except perhaps that child. He knew more than he needed to, but she shook her head and decided to focus on this vampire. Enough bad things had happened before when she focused on that mortal.

“Hey, what is your name?” Amalia asked, taking a few swift steps to be directly beside the stranger, “I’ve seen you… you visited the girl and her brother.” She said. She didn’t mean to be vague, she merely assumed he would know who she was talking about. Besides, she didn’t often come right out in public and comment on her vampirism. Unless of course she was about to kill the person she was speaking with. And she didn’t live with the delusion that vampires were easy to kill, even for another vampire. Besides, this might bring inspiration. She would keep him around as long as she deemed necessary.

[Legan]

Pan had decided what he was going to do when he got home, not giving his little bump with the stranger two shakes. He'd get home and change into some comfortable clothes and just read his restlessness away. Maybe clean up shop, get ready for tomorrow...

Suddenly, someone was next to him. He looked at the girl a bit startled and stopped. "Hey, what is your name? I've seen you... you visited the girl and her brother.” Bella and Dimitri? He'd never seen this girl around before which was odd. It was hard for him to forget a face. She was a Vampire then if she was hanging around the Coven house. Or some suicidal human teenager. "Uh," he said intelligently before shaking his head. "Excuse me," he chuckled at his own embarrassment. "Pan. Pan Yorke." He looked at her face, still not registering who she was. "I'm sorry... I can't put a name to your face though I'm sure if you've seen me I must have at least glimpsed you."

He looked around them, finding the streets bare. That relaxed him a bit. This wasn't some trap or anything then, as far as he could tell.

[Stockmon]

“Uh,”

That was the response Amalia got to her question for a name. Clearly she’d taken him by surprise. What sort of a vampire was he? Of course he wasn’t a part of the coven, but that said very little about him. Amalia was hardly a part of the coven; she didn’t associate with the rest of the coven. She didn’t assume Amedeus really played well with others. Desmond? No comment. And Bella and Dimitri were related, so it was no wonder they took care of each other. A vampire in a coven was like a wild wolf in a pack. Sure, they were together, but they were all still wild. But that was too close a comparison to the werewolves, so she frowned yet again.

“Excuse me, Pan. Pan Yorke.” He finally said. Amalia arched an eye brow. Pans are used for food. Hmmm… ironic. “I’m sorry… I can’t put a name to your face though I’m sure if you’ve seen me I must have at least glimpsed you.”

“Oh, not necessarily.” She said bluntly, with an unpleasant air about her, noticing him looking around as if worried. What a peculiar vampire he is. “I don’t tend to make friends about the coven, and I keep to myself at much as possible I suppose. I’m not what people call a social butterfly.” She said, walking more in front of him, though backwards. Her senses were sharp enough that if she were going to run into anything, she would know it far enough in advance to avoid the catastrophe, “You seem a bit nervous, or out of your element. Why is that?”

It really was unusual. Amalia had yet to reach inspiration, but she was definitely intrigued. She could think of a million ways to get answers to her questions, without being polite, but she didn’t know exactly how much like the rest of the vampires he was, and thus was not about to jump on the hostility train. She would bide her time, and keep the conversation going.

[Legan]

"Oh, not necessarily.” She started walking backwards in front of him. He hesitated, not knowing if he should follow her or not but he decided it wouldn't hurt after a moment.
he walked slowly with her, keeping his eyes on the ground. “I don’t tend to make friends about the coven, and I keep to myself at much as possible I suppose. I’m not what people call a social butterfly.” There was something they had in common. Pan smiled lightly and looked up at her. "Social butterfly? That's an interesting expression."

“You seem a bit nervous, or out of your element. Why is that?” Hit the nail on the head. Pan faltered in his steps noticeably, wondering what to say here. "Well," he sighed. "It's been a while since I've gone... Out at night, I guess, so it's all a little overwhelming. Plus, I was supposed to be in bed about two or three hours ago." He looked across the street and smiled crookedly. He looked like an adult, acted like an adult too, but he really was an adult with a bedtime. A Vampire with a bedtime.

"What is your name," he asked to change the subject and looked back at her curiously. "And I'm assuming that you're a Vampire as well if you're hanging around the Coven house." He cringed slightly, never liking to openly admit his Vampirism.

[Stockmon]

“Social butterfly? That’s an interesting expression.” Pan said with a light smile. Amalia didn’t say anything, I didn’t invent the expression. But when she asked him about being out of his element he was noticeably moved. More out of his element, Amalia supposed with a vague smirk.

“Well,” he said with a sigh, “It’s been a while since I’ve gone… out at night, I guess, so it’s all a little overwhelming.” What did he just say? “Plus, I was supposed to be in bed about two or three hours ago.” What kind of a vampire is he?

“What is your name, and I’m assuming you’re a vampire as well if you’re hanging around the coven house.” HE said with a slight cringe.

Amalia let her teeth slid across her fangs slowly and then commented off-handedly, “Yes, I am a vampire. I wouldn’t endure that house if I were not. I’m sure I would find them much more stifling if I was a mortal. Oh, yes, my name.” She said, remembering, as she’d forgotten for at least two seconds, “Amalia Gunn. Pleasant to make your acquaintance, thus far.” She said honestly, with a sly smile on her face. They were heading toward the edge of town and Amalia had no plans of stopping until they were out, unless Pan changed her plans.

“So what sort of a vampire doesn’t go around at night? I may not be that old, and” she said, emphasizing her English accent for the remainder of the sentence, “most just think I’m a little angel. But” She reverted for the first time to her rough native accent, “I’ve been around longer than they think. And in my years I have come across my share of our kind, and never met one that preferred the day to the night. Nor had a bedtime.”

[Legan]

Pan eased up as he walked with her, relaxing. If this was what it was like to be with another Vampire than he could deal with it. “Yes, I am a vampire. I wouldn’t endure that house if I were not. I’m sure I would find them much more stifling if I was a mortal. Oh, yes, my name.” . Pan nodded, though he took her words with a grain of salt. He looked up at her a little less embarrassedly, putting his hands in his pockets and looking more like a mortal than ever. “Amalia Gunn. Pleasant to make your acquaintance, thus far.”

"You too," Pan said with a light smile, looking into her eyes more comfortably. He was a little offput by the 'thus far' part but he supposed it was because they hadn't said a lot to each other. “So what sort of a vampire doesn’t go around at night?" Oh, wonderful... We were back to this subject. Pan sighed and stopped, realizing she was taking him past the town limits. He looked down at her uneasily. "I may not be that old, and most just think I’m a little angel. But I’ve been around longer than they think. And in my years I have come across my share of our kind, and never met one that preferred the day to the night. Nor had a bedtime.” Her voice had changed accents as she talked and Pan chuckled softly, shaking his head. He stayed where he was, not really having the will or the heart to leave the lit streets. "Well," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I really don't know how to answer that. I mean... I'm a Vampire..." He faltered, trying to figure out what to say. "But... I guess not a very good one." He shrugged and tried to look indifferent.

[Stockmon]

Amalia withheld her discomfort as she noticed how human Pan was acting. She supposed they were human, sort of, just something else also. Immortal. It was a pleasant word in Amalia’s ears, even if she couldn’t actually hear it. She could see the word sprawled out in her mind. Immortal. It was a blessing to some, a curse to others, and as far as she was concerned, it was a game to her.

“Well,” Pan sighed. Amalia made a point to take in everything he said. He smiled lightly, he chuckled at her accents, and he was avoiding leaving the city. Leaving the light. Amalia remained outwardly unmoved, though she did stand still, “I really don’t know how to answer that. I mean… I’m a Vampire… But… I guess not a very good one.”

“And it does not bother you being bad at what you are? Would a mortal not be distraught at being a bad mortal? Well, that is if he knew.” She said with a snort, “I’ve met many a bad mortal. Bad morals I suppose, perhaps not bad at being a mortal. But then again that implies mortals are all digesting little insects. And some are not. Some.” She said harshly, growling slightly.

“Pan Yorke. Pan. Still makes me think of cooking. I used to cook. I don’t anymore. I have easy ways of coming by money, really. But some of my more annoying customers do not carry cash. But enough do that I can get by. Buying things is easier than making them, do you agree?” She said, slowly walking closer to Pan, scrutinizing everything about him.

If Amalia was giving herself away she didn’t know it. Yes, she was talking more than she generally did, at least more honestly than she generally did. And she was speaking much more to him than any other vampire in the recent past. Amie kept to himself. Desmond was not a man to be approached. Dimitri and Bella annoyed her. And that left no one. It left loneliness. But Amalia found her own company, her customers.

“So it doesn’t bother you then?” She asked, stopping just finish her arms reach of Pan, but she kept her arms at her sides. As close as she was she noticed a few things. Pan appeared only a few years older than she did, and he was only about an inch taller than her. Which did nothing to quell her default authoritative personality. But she didn’t do anything, just stood there, “It doesn’t bother you not being a good vampire?”

[Legan]

“And it does not bother you being bad at what you are? Would a mortal not be distraught at being a bad mortal? Well, that is if he knew. I’ve met many a bad mortal. Bad morals I suppose, perhaps not bad at being a mortal. But then again that implies mortals are all digesting little insects. And some are not. Some.” Amalia growled bitterly here and Pan dropped his gaze, too submissive and polite to respond to her on that one. He didn't necessarily feel ashamed of being bad at what he was. It was more towards what he was period.

She snapped him back into their present conversation. “Pan Yorke. Pan. Still makes me think of cooking." Pan laughed here, tipping his head back slightly. "More along the lines of the God Pan and, ironically, his mortal lover," he chuckled, shrugging modestly. "But close enough."

"I used to cook. I don’t anymore. I have easy ways of coming by money, really. But some of my more annoying customers do not carry cash. But enough do that I can get by. Buying things is easier than making them, do you agree?” He nodded and he really did agree. Material things didn't concern him too much, though he'd attempt to check out the latest gadget if it was available. "I'm a bit of a pilgrim," he admitted, chuckling. "I live without a lot of things."

Amalia took some steps towards him. Pan tensed, readying to back up. She was getting awfully close and her gaze was set upon his. “So it doesn’t bother you then," she asked, looking into his eyes intensely. Pan shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a reason to look away. "It doesn’t bother you not being a good vampire?”

He licked his lips to wet them, shaking his head slightly. "No... It doesn't bother me," he finally said, easing his shoulders into a more relaxed position. "Is any Vampire really good at what they do? And to expand on that is what they're doing... Good?"

[Stockmon]

“More along the lines of the god Pan and, ironically, his mortal lover. But close enough. He said with a shrug and a chuckle. Amalia paid him no mind. She didn’t pay attention to fictional gods, and rarely did light humor suit her. This was not one of those rare occasions. And besides that she didn’t really understand the mortal lover comment. Was Pan the name of both of them? But since she wasn’t going to comment, it didn’t matter.

“I’m a bit of a pilgrim, I live without a lot of things.” He said. Amalia thought that was odd, and when she walked up to him he shifted uncomfortably. She could tell he was uncomfortable. That was easy to see. But mostly she was thinking about living without. Why live without? If you had immortality pushed upon you, why not enjoy it? Perhaps experimenting with living without might make sense. Just to see things differently, or to kill a bit of boredom. But all in all, Amalia hated living without. She had done it for over nineteen years, and she did not plan to go back.

“No… It doesn’t bother me.” Pan eventually admitted, shaking his head. Amalia squinted at him, though she didn’t glare, “Is any Vampire really good at what they do? And to expand on that is what they’re doing… Good?”

Amalia laughed, chucked softly actually. Her eyes were dark, “Yes, Vampires can be good at what they do. A murderer can be a good murderer. A vampire can be good if they do what keeps them alive, do it well, and do it without guilt. Guilt is… guilt. If you have no guilt it isn’t wrong. I suppose, at least in some aspect. But,” She said, looking at him coldly, “I don’t particularly bog myself down with the details. Good… Is what a vampire does… good? Does it matter? A mortal complaining of a vampire is like a spider complaining when a human stomps on it. So the spider was killed, yes, but it killed lesser creatures as well. And if you would try to argue that mortals are not lesser, which I do believe they are, then… still a spider could complain when a hoard of ants comes up and kills it. People complain and complain, nothing almost anyone does is good. And everyone does things that are evil. And plain and simple, I don’t care about doing good, or going without.”

She felt, deep down, she had a right to inflict pain on others, and take from others, to make up for all the betrayal and the poor she had survived, and yet she would never say it. She opened up to someone, and ended up nearly killing his brother. She supposed, with a wicked smirk, that she couldn’t handle her own emotions. But Pan couldn’t know that, “So what, you feel guilt about being a vampire or something?” She asked with humor.

[Legan]

Amalia laughed and Pan glanced away, sighing softly. “Yes, Vampires can be good at what they do. A murderer can be a good murderer." Murderer, yes. What a splendid word for what they were. He listened to her politely, only blinking his eyes. "A vampire can be good if they do what keeps them alive, do it well, and do it without guilt. Guilt is… guilt. If you have no guilt it isn’t wrong. I suppose, at least in some aspect. But-” She regarded him coldly here. He only responded with open confusion. It was practically radiating off of him. “I don’t particularly bog myself down with the details. Good… Is what a vampire does… good? Does it matter? A mortal complaining of a vampire is like a spider complaining when a human stomps on it. So the spider was killed, yes, but it killed lesser creatures as well. And if you would try to argue that mortals are not lesser, which I do believe they are, then… still a spider could complain when a hoard of ants comes up and kills it. People complain and complain, nothing almost anyone does is good. And everyone does things that are evil. And plain and simple, I don’t care about doing good, or going without.”

Pan shook his head and rubbed at his right temple which was more prone to headaches than the other side. "I'm sorry," he apologized, hoping he didn't look like he was bored by her speech. "That was all very interesting and I say that with the utmost honesty..." He smiled up at her and dropped his hand. "My brain doesn't keep up with everything sometimes. Comparing mortal life to that of an insect or an arachnid is quite different though, don't you think? Though I am starting to see what you mean, and it is a splendid visual." He chuckled softly.

Pan shivered, the cold driving to his bones and the night grew later. He stood politely, not wanting to rush their conversation. “So what, you feel guilt about being a vampire or something?” She seemed amused by this but Pan frowned lightly. The topic was too personal for him so he couldn't take it as she did now. And besides, she seemed to know about Vampires and either be proud to be one. Or at least something akin to pride. He rubbed his jaw almost as if to feel the stubble on his chin and cast his eyes up to look at the sky. "I only feel confusion," he finally sighed and shook his head. He chuckled once, smiling and looking up still. "And not guilt necessarily... I don't partake in most of the delicacies that a normal Vampire is supposed to." He sighed and looked at her almost sheepishly. "I think the only real think I feel is shame."

[Stockmon]

After Amalia’s metaphorical spider comparison Pan shook his head and rubbed his temple. Had she given him a headache or something? She didn’t move, merely stood just within arm’s reach, as she had been.

“I’m sorry, That was all very interesting and I say that with the utmost honesty…” He said with a smile, lowering his hand. Amalia didn’t blink. She didn’t heed people’s words as much as some people. It had been said that words were only a small percent of perception, or something to that effect. She didn’t listen to things like that, but she also didn’t trust people. She trusted vampires more than mortals, that was true. They tended to be more upfront because if all else failed, they could take what they wanted. In Amalia’s case, getting what she wanted was foreplay, where as taking it was just what she did when she was too lazy to put out the effort. Not necessarily foreplay to sex, but a lead up to anything. But all in all Amalia hasn’t seen Pan enough to get a good read on whether or not he was being honest, so she decided it really didn’t matter.

“My brain doesn’t keep up with everything sometimes. Comparing mortal life to that of an insect or an arachnid is quite different though, don’t you think? Though I am starting to see what you mean, and it is a splendid visual.” He said with a chuckle. Amalia again didn’t blink, just looked at his eyes. Green, like hers. But they held a completely different personality inside. Soft and warm, not hard and cold. She thought the metaphor was perfectly normal, if it worked, it was normal.

“I only feel confusion. And not guilt necessarily… I don’t partake in most of the delicacies that a normal Vampire is supposed to. I think the only real thing I feel is shame.”

Amalia scoffed, shame. She closed her eyes for a moment. Remembering what she looked like years ago. Her hair was longer, she was more tan, healthier, happier. She was mortal back then. But she had the same eyes. She opened them and shrugged, “Shame is a relative of guilt. You feel badly about something, badly that you are something, or badly that you have done something. Relatives, cousins perhaps. I never had any cousins.” She said, “But they aren’t siblings, not quite so similar. Of course people think siblings are more similar than they really are. Honestly, siblings can be polar opposites, -ah, nevermind.” She said. Had she been mortal she might have apologized. But she gave up that game years ago. She wasn’t sorry for anything, almost anything. And so she didn’t pretend to be.

“Delicacies.” She laughed darkly, remembering that word, “Oh, I wouldn’t say they are delicacies. Well, some perhaps. What are you referring to? Killing? Or enjoying it? Because they are certainly different.”

[Legan]

Amalia didn't seem moved by Pan's feelings, but she wasn't pitying him either. He was both relieved and a tad frustrated with this. But why should she feel anything towards him? They'd only just met and he was, in his own opinion, pathetic at times. He coughed quietly into his hand an dropped his gaze to the smudged toes of his shoes. “Shame is a relative of guilt." He looked back up at her, brow furrowed. This was true, he supposed. Shame was something that came with guilt. "Maybe I am a bit guilty," he sighed and shrugged helplessly.

"You feel badly about something, badly that you are something, or badly that you have done something. Relatives, cousins perhaps. I never had any cousins.” Yes, this was true... He felt badly about something he had done to a relative. “But they aren’t siblings, not quite so similar. Of course people think siblings are more similar than they really are. Honestly, siblings can be polar opposites, -ah, nevermind.” Pan shook his head, signifying he had no siblings. "I don't have any siblings myself," he said gently, taking a tissue from his pocket and wiping under his nose. "But I was always curious what it was like to have one. Specifically to have a twin." He smiled slightly. "I hear that sometimes they can be the closest of all and still be different. But those are just words from people."

“Delicacies. Oh, I wouldn’t say they are delicacies. Well, some perhaps. What are you referring to? Killing? Or enjoying it? Because they are certainly different.”

Pan shrugged and nudged some gravel and dirt away from a sprouting plant on the side of the street from them. "I really don't do any of it," he admitted. "Well... I try not to, but when you're hungry you're hungry." He didn't want to dwell on it further. "Please," he said looking up at her curiously. "You mentioned siblings being polar opposites before you stopped yourself. Do you have siblings you are fond of?"

[Stockmon]

“Maybe I am a bit guilty.” Pan said helplessly. Amalia, as she often did, refrained from reacting outwardly. Sometimes she didn’t even react inwardly, but at the moment she was. Pathetic. He looked helpless, and that was pathetic. You had to be strong, or else the vultures ate you alive. It was just how the world worked. How mortals worked. Vampires could be cruel, but some were not. They were treated as if every single one was out to get some innocent little girl who hadn’t done them any wrong. That was a lie. She tortured for a reason. And she, most often than not, only killed men stupid enough to try her. Sometimes she seduced men, yes, it was a hobby, but sometimes they came to her. And if they ran away, if they had a mind to get out, they would live. But they weren’t usually smart enough for that.

“I don’t have any siblings myself.” Pan said gently. Amalia gave him a dull glare, she didn’t want to know. She hadn’t asked if he had family, but she supposed information was good, so she didn’t cut him off, “But I was always curious what it was like to have one. Specifically to have a twin. I hear that sometimes they can be the closet of all and still be different. But those are just words from people.”

“Never been acquainted with twins.” Amalia said under her breath. It was almost out of character. Random glimpse of her honesty. Short and sweet. She had met twins, but never actually known any. And there were none in her family.

“I really don’t do any of it, Well…. I try not to, but when you’re hungry you’re hungry.” Pan said, then quickly changed the subject. Of all the subjects to try to change it to, he picked the wrong one, family, “Please. You mentioned siblings being polar opposites before you stopped yourself? Do you have siblings you are fond of?”

Amalia growled, “I’m a vampire, family dies. And any family I had when I was alive…. Were wretched who deserved to die, so it doesn’t matter.” She said, her body language clearly hostile. She didn’t go out of her way to mention Isabella, it wasn’t relevant, and he hadn’t earned her confidence enough to know. Besides, as far as Isabelle was concerned, Amalia was probably dead, and that was how she wanted it to stay.