Jul 21, 2019 3:09 AM
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"I am an outlier," he agrees. "In more ways than you know."

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"Yeah? What else?"

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"Nothing I particularly care to tell someone who is half convinced I will spring for her throat at any moment," he says pleasantly.

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"At this point I wouldn't describe myself as convinced, just possessed of a certain amount of background knowledge," says Bella. "You wouldn't like the condiments I put on before I go out, though."

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"You are a continual delight," he remarks. "And among many other reasons why you have nothing to fear from me on that score, I only eat people who bore me. You do the opposite."

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"So what I'm hearing is that I need to make sure I'm in a private residence before running out of material, is that right?"

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"Not only am I not eating you," he says, "I am currently not eating anyone else, purely because I expect it would annoy you. Hence the shopping."

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Bella opens her mouth.

She closes it.

"That's interesting," she says finally. And then, because she doesn't want to be tricked, because vampires are tricky, she continues, "that you call it shopping."
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"A regionalism, where you would say 'groceries'. Or did you mean my drawing the analogy in the first place? I think it's funny."

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"I mean you didn't shop for it so much as swipe it. Do all butchers have blood in the back room?" she asks, looking dubiously at the establishment. "I wouldn't think there would be much call for it. Even among vampires, who normally prefer the other other white meat."

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"...Are you not aware of the seedy little demon bar operating in your town? It's called Willy's," says Sherlock. "It's atrocious. Never combine cold pig's blood with warm vodka. I am unutterably enthusiastic about stealing from their supplier given the sins they commit with their stock."

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"A demon bar? Am I going to find it on the phone book or do I have to locate a speakeasy if I ever decide to check it out?"

(She's not going to go check it out right away even if he gives her the address, password, and a sealed package of crossbow bolts. She is not that good yet, there could be dozens of hostile creatures in a demon bar.)
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"I could show you," he says. "But, reasonably, you don't trust me."

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"I'm so glad we agree on my reasonableness," she says dryly. "You could tell me where it is, in case I need to know later."

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"End of the alley halfway between Walnut and Elm Grove on Reicester. Pity, I was hoping to see your face when you witnessed your first game of kitten poker."

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"...Kitten poker," says Bella.

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"Both as adorable and as horrifying as it sounds."

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"What does one do with accumulated kittens?"

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"If one is the right sort of demon, one eats them; otherwise one trades them to same. Or admires their fluffiness, I suppose. I've never seen the point in any of the above, myself."

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"Well, now I know you're definitely somewhere on the far side of evil, if you don't see the point of admiring the fluffiness of kittens."

(This is clearly a joke. She is joking with a vampire. Why is she joking with a vampire?)
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He laughs.

"You wound me, madam."
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"Nah. I tried, but I don't seem to be ready for the Olympics yet. And it's such a shame, too, I wanted to represent my country and take home the gold," she says earnestly.

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"Ah, yes. A Slayer with a distaste for close combat. Will wonders never cease."

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"Turns out vampires tend not to rise from the grave with ranged weapons equipped. Why would I want to engage in close combat? Do most Slayers prefer it? Geez, how long do they live?"

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"Twenty-six is the record, I believe."

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