It wasn't as if she had never been there, but somehow Darren had always insisted that he make it back to their apartment by himself after his late-night shifts, and Mars had never bothered to resist, figuring that the male was capable of taking care of himself. Besides, nothing had happened in the past few years, and besides that the Hollow's proprietor was a somewhat... intimidating figure (to say the least), so Mars highly doubted the likelihood of violent showdowns occurring on a regular basis, never mind ones that resulted in a marred bartender.
With such buoyant thoughts (but still a handgun and short blade concealed, as had become her habit when traveling under the moon's glow or past seven o'clock), Mars smirked her way through the entrance, offering the bouncer her characteristically beguiling expression, and was greeted by the dull thudding of bass - somehow the music was never excessively loud here, though the girl could think of a few reasons why - and pockets of people lounging around with drinks in hand.
Making her way through the space, she maneuvered her way onto a barstool and settled the seat of her slim, black jeans onto the red vinyl. Flipping a few strands of raven hair out of her line of sight, as it was prone to misbehaving and settling artfully but haphazardly all over her delicate features, Mars put on a vaguely disarming expression and leaned her lithe frame over the counter, greeting the familiar figure behind it with a breathy sort of invitation.
"Gin and tonic, light on the mint yeah?" Still, the sight of her boyfriend mixing drinks behind the counter always evoked a sort of amusement in her, and the corners of her lips twitched as evidence of that.
Darren actually had good reason for insisting upon getting back to the apartment on his own after his shift, but part of it was pure pride. He was a bartender and his girlfriend was a kick ass vampire hunter. He could handle that, and did, but he did like to think that he could take care of himself well enough to walk to his car after work. He also didn't want her in the Hollow that late for more important issues, though. If she was going to come in, he'd prefer she stop by during an earlier shift of his, since it meant he could keep a better eye on what was going on. At this time of night, the Hollow was busy, the crowd was extremely diverse, and it was his job to ensure that nothing major happened. Ash Leone, the Hellcat himself, only employed one human, and that was more out of protection for Leander than anything else. Ash's other employees were predominantly shifters, which was in the hopes that they could control the crowd. Darren had gotten 'marred' more times than he'd have been willing to admit to Mars without her asking it directly.
He'd caught a whiff of her scent over the smell of alcohol while he mixed drinks and teased customers, but he hadn't actually had a chance to acknowledge it until he heard her speak. His lips twitched into the slightest of smirks, but he reacted to her like any other customer, without turning around. "You got it," he told her simply, mixing her drink up and setting another customer's jager-bomb down in front of them before coming to a halt before her.
"Gin and tonic, light on the mint, heavy on the spice," he announced, leaning over the bar quickly to steal a kiss and grant her a grin. "Tonight's special, on the house, babe."
The twitching that begged desperately at her lips finally broke into a grin as she leaned in closer to Darren for a quick, stolen kiss. Mars accepted the drink - one of her favorites, barring any and all teasing she endured from Darren about drinking 'old man drinks' - and lifted the glass to her lips, imbibing a few sips before pronouncing it delicious and setting it down on the glass counter once more.
"Very heavy on the spice," she half-purred, though that was normally his job, and the rose-petal lips parted again in a half-smirk, half-pout, "And that tab you've been running for Connor and I must be through the roof. I'm surprised the Hellcat hasn't given you any issues for it. Must be quite the little tip-getter 'round here."
The remark wasn't complete in effect without the arched eyebrow, though her lips gave away any malice in the jest. Cajoling aside, Mars wasn't the least bit concerned about Darren's attention-getting ways from the female clientele, given that most of them were either not competent enough to be outwitted by him or on their own agendas. A casual glance around the gathering combined with Mars's characteristically keen sense of observation told her that the clientele on that particular night consisted mostly of humans, with a few pockets here and there of 'others', though nothing at an alarming population.
"Wouldn't blame 'em, given those hands of yours," she dropped not-so-subtlely, followed by another sip of her gin and tonic, and a nonchalant glance-over with those amber eyes, "For uhhh, y'know. Mixing drinks and whatnot," the words slid out, tone silken, amorous in an almost growling sort of way. Pity, of course, that her eyes remained steely. What a shameless tease. There was, of course, a legitimate reason she was here, and not because her Advanced Economic Analysis lecture had let out early and left her with a strange dearth of homework.
'Very heavy on the spice' was just about the only way he'd make anything for her, though she was also the only one who truly got any of that sort of spice from him, despite his teasing and flirting. He'd gotten a catcall or two (pardon the pun) from a few customers due to the kiss across the bar, but nobody was in need of a drink at the moment, so he could spare some time for her right then.
He winked, flashing her kitty cat eyes for an instant, and kept the grin. "It's not just the hands that keep the customers coming back," he remarked smoothly. "Everyone likes a little spice sometimes. What brings you in here tonight, though? Somehow, I doubt Connor sent you out drinking without him."
A very slight snort escaped her at the mention of his cousin and her, er, 'superior' (though she treated him as more of a brother figure than anything else, ironic given that he had an actual sister named 'Chase'), but it didn't arise out of contempt or derision, but amusement. Her tone quickly turned serious before oscillating back to its playful self as she remarked on Connor, "Poor guy, really. In the state he's been lately. Undoubtedly needs a few drinks. But actually, I came by because I've missed the little 'Vet," she explained, expression perfectly serious, referring to the Corvette they shared-but-was-mostly-Darren's, "...And because I picked up some bread pudding and cupcakes from Sprinkles down by campus. I figured we needed a little... pick-me-up," she finished vaguely, licking the excess liquid off her lips from the last gulp and chewing on the sprig of mint.
"Considering that it was my boyfriend and mine's three-year anniversary about three nights ago. You haven't seen him around, have you? He's been so busy and all lately..." she had finally arrived at the topic of contention, feigning a nonchalant sort of hurt that only her beguiling tone could muster, though the honeyed eyes never ceased to twinkle. Fingertips tapped idly at the countertop as she awaited his reaction.
His grin faltered slightly at the mention of Connor's more recent troubles, but they were all trying to keep it quiet for the time being. Until he could figure out what to do about Guild Leadership, should he be challenged. Darren only knew because Chase (his cousin, not Mars) and Jordan had found out. Mars was helping to keep Connor from getting jumped, but that was something that surprised him about his cousin. The man had seemed to discreetly collect a little bodyguard squad. Darren was impressed.
"Ahh, of course! The car gets all the love," he said, sighing dramatically. "Well, she's all yours the next time you go off somewhere that isn't likely to involve blood on the seats, alright?"
He joked, but that was only because Mars didn't often end up coming home bloody. He'd have been less pleasant about her being a hunter if that weren't the case. "Mmm, I love Sprinkles' cupcakes. If I see that no-good boyfriend of yours, I'll let him know what he's missing out on. In the meantime, let my girlfriend know that she's been off hunting psychopathic supernaturals too often lately, and I want to take her out for dinner. Something about an anniversary?" he suggested, looking at her as though he didn't know. In truth, they'd BOTH been way too busy lately, but he'd taken off the following night, and was determined to take her out for a change.
The beguiling gaze continued as she looked at him over the rim of her raised tumbler, the clear liquid flowing into her partially opened mouth. She chewed thoughtfully on the mint sprig, allowing the fresh tingle to spread slowly onto her tongue, and glanced down at her now-lowered glass, its edges frosty with the liquid inside. Truth be told, work had gotten a lot more hectic since Connor's little... incident... and it didn't help that Capri had supposedly stormed out.
Now all he had left to resist others finding out and risking leadership coup was basically Mars, Jordan, and a few other trusted members. Mars had asked him to see outside help, discretely of course, so as to not risk a security breach, but Connor had resisted, insisting that he would be 'fine'. Mars had nearly stormed out then as well, livid at the man's stubbornness, but she supposed that he couldn't be blamed. Little did Darren know, Mars had wiped the blood streaks from the car's leather seats more than once now before returning home so as to not arouse suspicion. She didn't like Darren being any closer or more knowledgeable about her work than necessary, and naturally she liked it even less when he was concerned for her safety health.
These thoughts ran through her mind with remarkable speed, and she had hardly set the glass down before they vanished and she spoke once more.
"Dinner? What a lucky girl," the 'l' sound rolled off her tongue and lingered a few milliseconds longer than normal, before addressing his car concerns, "And no worries. No blood, no blood." Except for what I spill, she finished silently. Somehow over the years it had become alright with her that such distasteful thoughts appeared in her mind, but it wasn't as if Mars could help it. When she had first begun the job, almost three years ago to this day, she had been horrified and panicked at nearly every turn, but experience and swift aim had reassured her, and she managed to complete jobs intact and unscathed now, for the most part.
She leaned her chin upon her palm, resting her elbow lightly on the counter, which she knew was a mistake as soon as she did so. In an effort to mask her wince, she subtlely shifted positions and cleared her throat. No need for Darren to be distracted by cuts and bruises, as he usually was - save that this one was rather stubborn and wouldn't heal properly. Mars silently cursed the now-dead vampire; the result of their scuffle had left him dead and Mars battered, and though her bruises healed rather well, the gash that ran from the backside of her forearm to the middle of her upper arm had refused to for the past few days. It was troublesome, most of all when she and Darren shared the bed. If it weren't for the fact that he usually stumbled in rather late after his shift and was exhausted, he would've long ago spotted the bandages.
Keeping him from being concerned about her safety in her line of work was absolutely impossible, but he tried his best. He was a shifter, and a predator at that, so the scent of blood was never missed. He was just discreet about his knowledge, refusing to overreact so long as she was well enough to attempt hiding it. He knew she didn't want him to worry, and so he tried not to. It was what had prompted him to mention the 'no blood' rule in the car, and if she really thought that he didn't notice a smell of blood on her in bed, then she was fooling herself well. He couldn't miss it, especially on the nights when he was the most exhausted, since that was when his feline thoughts were closest to the surface, but he hadn't told her that. Just the fact that his being a shifter didn't bother her like it would a number of other people was a miracle in his eyes, so he wasn't about to freak her out by telling her something like that.
Sometimes though, his worry somehow managed to overcome his better plans.
"Very lucky," he agreed, catching a gesture from a customer just a few chairs down for another beer, and he pulled it from the cooler in front of him, popped the top off and passed it off to the man before marking it on his tab and returning to Chase in order to finish his thoughts.
"So lucky, in fact, that I deliberately chose a restaurant where longer-sleeves would be appropriate, since she doesn't have a habit of seeing the doctor when she needs to," he said seriously, having taken note of her shifting. He might not have if he hadn't already been suspicious and he wouldn't have normally said anything, but it had been a few days already. Usually, she was fine by now.
He was doing it again - the 'Darren is worried about you but loves you anyway even though you've been hiding things from him' expression was unmistakable as the seriousness in his words now, and she sighed, staring into the bottom of her nearly-drained glass and rolling her tongue's rough surface over the enamel of her back teeth, giving her jaw a very 'set' sort of sort. Bristling slightly, she peered at him carefully.
The jig was definitely up, and she couldn't say she was exactly peeved or relieved, but the dynamic between them had been so off-kilter ever since she joined Crimson as a hunter that sometimes she didn't know if Darren resented the fact that she had joined or was merely irritated at the frequency with which she was injured. Naturally, both of them understood the kind of danger inherent in the job, but the game of cat-and-mouse with dodging his questions and missing anniversaries took its toll too.
She removed the sprig of mint from between her lips with some hesitation before settling it down into the tumbler, avoiding his gaze for a few seconds before daring to make eye contact. There was something inexplicable about his expression that made her want to cry and laugh at the same time; it was sorely evident that he cared but tried not to care too much, and often Mars imagined her mangled body down some alley, discovered a bit too late by fellow guild members, and the grief that she didn't know if Darren was prepared for.
What an optimist.
"Thanks," were her only words, all at once gentle and defeated. Of course Darren knew about her scars and bruises; she had been with him much too long for her to hide most things successfully from him without invoking her gifts, and she had long ago promised never to do that, with few exceptions.
"Pesky, isn't it? Now I'll have to find a long-sleeved gown, and nobody's done that since the '80s," she jested, halfheartedly. She usually chose to make light of his concern, often falling back on her 'trump' card: the fact that she was the buttkicking hunter, though she knew it didn't faze him in the least. Avoiding the topic of her injury on purpose, she inhaled sharply, then exhaled.
She could have asked Darren at any time if he would be prepared for the very real possibility that her body could be found mutilated in some alley because someone had gotten the drop on her, and he'd have given her an answer. He'd have lied, though. There was nothing in the world that could prepare him for something like that, and despite all attempts at keeping things as simple as possible, he'd gotten hopelessly attached to Mars. He didn't even want to consider losing her, even if it was quite possible.
Perhaps it was that refusal to think about what would happen if she died that fueled his concern, but hey, at least he tried not to stress over it. "You're welcome. I have no doubt you'll look amazing, as usual," he assured her, pulling together a second drink for her, just in case she wanted it, while he made someone else's.
"Will you let me see it when we get home?" he asked carefully, hoping she'd agree. He didn't have any huge skill in medicine, but he knew enough from time spent visiting Connor in the infirmary and from his own hurts after nasty supernatural bar brawls that he could at least reassure himself that he was overreacting once he saw it.
So long as he WAS overreacting.
Her hardened gaze had softened at his first remark, though nothing kept her from fidgeting every so slightly as his request left his lips. She knew that every occasion he had ever examined her physical damage had resulted in an argument, in which he had silently brooded while trying to maintain a mildly disconcerted facade, while she had exercised the temper that her mother gave her and resorted to slamming things or bickering. The girl had never been big on simmering anger, preferring to let things spill over and clean up the mess later. Perhaps it was time to rethink that strategy.
The alcohol almost never affected her, so she took up his offer of a second, pleased to see that he had used Grey Goose in his raspberry-cranberry concoction of a cosmopolitan. The strong lemon zest was a reminder of how much he had become a part of her life in the past three years; he had memorized her drinks down to the specificity of zest dosages. It was altogether too much of a sharp reminder of the pain they'd both eventually suffer, though Mars was certain that hers would result in death and his... well, she'd only hoped that he hadn't set his heart on seeing the diamond on her finger for long before he'd have to pry it off and set it on someone else's.
"Mmh," she offered a noncommital response to his request, knowing that she'd give in as soon as they got home anyway, but then twisted her lips into a pout, "After some bread pudding, cupcakes, and some melon liquor?" She knew he wouldn't refuse, especially as liquor gave her a happy sheen and was almost a guarantee for a good romp in the sheets later; being a witch ensured that she wouldn't be intoxicated, but excess amounts resulted in a pleasant glow. Leaning back in her stool, and ignoring the jeers of a nearby pocket of evident bachelors, Mars studied her boyfriend and remembered her initial reason for the visit.
"That's what I was here for, actually - besides the 'Vet. No festivities are complete without the liquor. And I checked the schedule. Neither of us have class tomorrow," she reminded, which was a rare treat given their academic demands. He was about to graduate in a few months.
Neither of them having class the next day immediately got him to perk up, and a slow smile spread across his face. Both of them being free to sleep in was such a rare event that his mind immediately leapt into the gutter, though it made a few pit stops on the way that included the bread pudding, cupcakes and liquor. The night ahead was sounding better and better, so long as he made it through his shift without any trouble.
He shot the bachelors making noises at Mars a dark look, allowing his eyes to flash feline at them, and smirked when one of them pointed him out to the others. It was part of his job to get jeered at by whoever he was trying to make tips off of, but it wasn't required of Mars. Even if she could take care of herself better than he could.
"You said melon, right?" he asked, ensuring that he'd heard her right. Her preference wasn't always the same when they got a bottle of something, so he wanted to be sure. At her confirmation, he plucked a few bills out of his tip jar to pay for the bottle, and pulled one out of one of the lower cupboards against the back wall. He bagged it and paid for it right there so that he could give it to her immediately. He didn't want to run the risk of forgetting if he got busy or distracted.
"Alright, so here's the deal, Lady Lang. You may have the liquor, but not the car. I need something to keep you coming in to see me," he informed her, setting the bottle on the bar before her.
At his handing over the gem-hued shade of emerald liquor, Mars brightened considerably, only for her lips to fall back into the characteristic pout before leaning over to accept the bagged bottle. Noting the dark look he shot at the group of bachelors, she clucked a thin, barely-audible 'aw' at his efforts and stole another quick kiss.
"My big strong maaaaan. You win about the car, but that means I'll have to stay until the end of your shift. I asked Eliska to drop me off here after our problem session," she mentioned nonchalantly, "The cupcakes and bread pudding are chillin' in our fridge. So if those guys are hopin' that I'll stick around, they'll get their wish.
But if they hope for anything beyond mere ogling, those pigs had better get used to facing some claws," she remarked, with a mild roll of her honeyed eyes as she turned around and shot the group a rather disarming grin and a wink, knowing that Darren would almost immediately reprimand her for it - but he should've known by now that Mars nearly invited trouble wherever she went, and still had an annoying knack for unwittingly aggravating a situation until it bordered on reckless and out of control, when she snapped it back to order once more, usually with a quick shut-down powered by either her sharp remarks or sharp aim.
As if the job alone weren't thrilling enough.
Stowing the bottle underneath the counter, in the niche that she knew existed from repeated and frequent visits, Mars continued to toy with her martini glass, remembering quite suddenly something that Connor had briefly mentioned to her, and lowered her voice. She never liked to display much physical affection with Darren in public, but tonight had been somewhat of an exception; she didn't sense any trouble amongst the crowd. Usually, knowledge of a romantic attachment between Hunters and those outside of the guilds and affiliations spelled trouble for the significant other. She lived in fear of the day that a vampire would spot her canoodling with Darren and then corner him in a dark alley when she wasn't around.
"Have you been, ahh, working out lately?"
He sighed, rolling his own eyes when she commented on the guys that were ogling her and making comments, then proceeded to encourage them. That he'd gotten a little kiss out of her in the process had to have shown them to back off, but not many men would turn down even casual interest from a woman while drinking. She wasn't kidding when she mentioned claws, though. If they so much as tried anything with her, he'd be on them. In the meantime, he would just keep his usual eye on the crowd in general. Mars wouldn't find trouble in the Hollow while he was there, and she could handle most trouble on her own, however reluctant he was to think about her in trouble.
"You're such a tease," he told her with a good-natured sigh and smile, heading off to handle some new customers for a few moments before stopping by in front of her to pour their beers. Mars had long ago realized which seat put her in a position to spend the most time around him while he was working, and so it wasn't at all difficult to talk while he was a bit busy. "I was last week, but I had too many shifts so far this week. Might stop up there tomorrow," he told her simply, referring to the Guild. He knew what she was talking about. She and his cousin both busted his ass incessantly about him keeping up with some sort of training, just in case. He personally didn't think that he was in nearly as much danger as a hunter or someone, but he'd been told that he wasn't exactly a common breed of shifter, so he should be careful. Unfortunately, Connor had been present for that and it had inspired his 'workouts'.
He'd been 'slacking' a lot, actually. Given Ash Leone's absence while he was in Midnight, Darren had picked up plenty of extra shifts to make up for the Triste, and so he'd had to give up some of that time at the Guildhouse. Mars had been trying to keep him up with it since.
As he wandered off here and there to tend to customers' demands for more shots and drinks - she saw a woman request 'scotch on rocks' and gave her a glance over, but nothing more. The woman didn't know it yet, but she was pregnant, and Mars had half a mind to ask her not to drink, but that kind of news would most certainly invite trouble, if not a few weird looks and a very irritated woman. So she let it slide, focusing instead on her own cosmo. Chewing on the curly lime rind - what was her thing with garnishes? - Mars surveyed the busy crowd once more, marveling at the establishment that Ash Leone had managed to transform into a rather busy thoroughfare for both regulars and newcomers.
Darren's reply snapped her back to sharp attention, however, and she shifted her position, crossing her other leg over, pleased that the black denim yielded. She didn't particularly fancy facing any sort of combat or trouble in stubborn, cardboard-like jeans, and this evening had turned out for the better, assuaging her usual paranoia. The girl liked to be prepared. She came with Plans A, B, and usually C.
"Tomorrow sounds good. You can take it easy all you want on me, on account of this thing," she gestured subtely to her injured arm, "But don't expect me to cut you any slack. A little bird told me that you've been picking up extra shifts lately."
That little bird had actually been Dave, phoning into her one night when Darren had requested him to inform Mars of his late shift, and Mars (though she didn't show it) had paid careful attention to his work. It seemed as though he had put in two-thirds more time in the past week. Apart from work and academics, that could only mean that he had been taking it easy at training.
Actually, 'taking it easy on training' really meant that he hadn't done any at all, and it didn't bother him nearly as much as it did her and Connor. Those two were way too paranoid about his well-being, he swore it. He didn't think there was any real cause for concern, but he humored them. Besides, training at the Guild was still a very good workout, even if it bruised his pride when Mars stopped in and knocked him around. He was getting better, though.
"You mean, a buzzard told you. A great, big hairy old buzzard," he corrected happily, immediately grabbing a chance to insult Dave. The two got along marvelously, though their relationship tended to revolve around cat and dog jokes, with the two of them messing with each other constantly. Dave kept a little spray bottle behind the bar when they worked together, just for kicks. Darren brought him dog treats one day. It was a neverending cycle.
"Since you're staying, what's your next adventure?" he asked, gesturing to what had once been a Cosmo, and was now an empty glass with a garnish that Mars was quickly finishing off.
"Ehh," came another uncertain reply. The two drinks, normally very potent for a girl of her size and stature, had done little but give her cheeks a rosy tint, though the girl had been satisfied for the night. The cranberry and subsequent lime flavours left her mouth with a savory cleanness, and Mars rolled the garnish around in her mouth a few times before dropping it into the empty glass. It had been the better part of an hour now, and Darren's shift had to have been coming to an end, given that it was nearly 2 AM. Perhaps another hour more?
Mars could've easily amused herself roving around the bar, though with nobody else that she knew, the only other options were to rove around and annoy or flirt with other customers - which she personally was not feeling playful or chatty enough to do - or continue sitting on the stool and survey the place quietly while chatting with Darren. The latter option seemed a bit more entertaining, and Mars didn't mind unwinding after the loooong day. Helping herself to a bit of the water that she knew was kept in a pitcher under Darren's side of the counter, she leaned her chin against her palm and gave her boyfriend a slightly appraising glance.
"Nothing really. Any more drinks and I'll be packing on the pounds," she joked, patting her perfectly flat abdomen for emphasis, "And then for once you'll have me pinned to the ground when working out," she teased him lightly, knowing that his manhood could stand to take a poke or two from time to time. Truth be told, she had never seen herself as 'the stronger one' of the duo, knowing that given the right situation, Darren could just as easily make great use of his teeth and claws as she did with her crossbow and guns.
He had to laugh at her talk of 'packing on the pounds', as though it were a real concern, and at the chance that he'd be pinning her in any sort of training situation. That didn't work out very often, either. He was good enough, but he didn't have to constant work at it all that she'd possessed, nor was he willing to use his natural talents against her all that often. With a real enemy, teeth and claws would be fair game, but not with Mars. The fact that she was amazing with even a usually non-lethal weapon didn't hurt her case.
"In that case, I'll have to draw you out here more often," he teased, leaving her empty glass where it was so that she could mess with it and the garnish for something to do with her hands. He knew her well enough to know that she sometimes liked to busy her hands while she talked. "And make some nice, fatty dinners." Not that he really wanted her to gain any weight like that, since his own ability to beat her meant that there was someone else out there who could. He didn't want that, and besides, he liked her the way she was.
He didn't mind teasing her that he was going to win, though.
She slicked her tongue across the enamel of her pearly whites, another habit that he had gotten in the business of seeing on a regular basis - she was normally a very expressive sort of person, save for when things got serious and she needed to hunker down for some planning or doing. Mars knew when it was time to work and when it was time to play, and this fit into the latter, thankfully. If her arm were any more battered before it healed, she didn't know if she'd be that amazing with her firearms much longer. And forget hand-to-hand combat. Long-range was something she excelled remarkably at; however, her slight frame and 110-pound figure could hardly prove marvelous for physical combat, no matter how fit she trained herself to be.
"Speaking of nice and fatty, I've still got some of that shrimp scampi with whole-wheat linguine sitting in the 'fridge, waiting to be heated up. That'd go nicely with the cocktails and bread pudding," she remarked thoughtfully, the mean flying together in her mind. It was characteristic of Mars to run away with the slightest of ideas - it was how her mind worked. Sometimes it was a bit too flighty, and that's when she needed Darren's grounding thoughts.
It was nice to focus a bit on the domestic life. Something not stressful or life-threatening, as had been the norm for a good part of the last three or four years. It was a possibility they never really discussed, but each shared a silent understanding of the other's mortality. It was really one of the reasons that Mars had not discussed the idea of marrying. If their lives didn't entail such instability and danger, as she had once justified it to herself, it would definitely have crossed her mind. But as she studied Darren's handsome frame, it pained her just a little to think that they might not have much more time than the present.
It was a shame just how differently their thoughts ran, since Mars was horribly interested in the 'what ifs' and what she considered to be inevitable. He was more concerned with the present and an optimistic view of the future. An 'if all goes well' sort of scenario, if you will. He intended to marry this girl, but he was taking his sweet time in asking, considering her opinion on the subject. He'd heard of plenty of hunters who lived to a ripe old age. Just look at that guy Verde that Connor had mentioned. He'd just recently turned 40. Of course, his fiance had died when he was 29. That wasn't important, though. Darren wasn't a hunter, so it was only Mars that really had to worry about making it to a nice, large number for her age. Darren had no doubt that he could pull it off, given the lack of real threat to his life on a daily basis.
His mouth almost watered at her mention of the shrimp scampi, which had been amazing the first time around, and he groaned. "You know, I have at least an hour left here, and now you're making me hungry," he pointed out. He had a feeling she did it on purpose sometimes. She knew how much he liked shrimp, and she'd teased him about it since she'd found out. It actually wasn't a feline thing, since leopards were into red meat as much as fish anyway, but it was impossible to escape the typical cat stereotype, and he did really like fish.
"You better be careful, or we might not make it home without a snack," he teased right back, winking at her suggestively. Somehow, he wasn't entirely on the subject of food still, even if he WAS looking forward to that shrimp.
A snort-giggle left her at his suggestive wink. Somehow, Darren always managed to sharpen his feline features when he winked, smirked, grinned, or otherwise made any snarky, sarcastic, or sly gestures. She supposed that his wink would've fit under the 'sly' category, but still. The man hardly needed any more highlighting of his feline qualities, and besides catnip, she knew shrimp and seafood were just about his kryptonite.
That, or late-night romps. Somehow Mars got the feeling that they'd never escape the night with clean sheets, and though she'd never be caught dead in a compromising or sordid position, she'd also never withhold anything from Darren. The level of trust they shared ensured a comfortable setting under covers, whereas normally Mars wasn't open at all to intimacy on that level.
"There'll be plenty of time to snack later on. Calm yerself," she countered right back, managing her own wink and smug wink, though her words weren't completely without truth. He had the 'Vet, didn't he? The two were lost amid their thoughts for a second, so much that Mars didn't notice that one of the bachelors from the other table, having had one too many shots of tequila, had approached her from behind with a bit of a swagger and leaned against the counter with a foolishly brazen air.
[span style=\'color:silver\']"Buy you a draaank?" he drawled, the stench of stale liquor heavy in his breath. Apparently, his friend's warnings about the bartender had quite escaped him.[/span]
Really, he felt he had enough weaknesses where Mars was concerned, and she knew all of them, or so he thought. Other than the seafood and catnip, there was a spot on the back of his neck that drove him wild, but he wasn't telling her about that one if she hadn't figured it out on her own, yet. Such weaknesses could be used for evil, such as convincing him to join her for a shopping trip, or making her breakfast when neither of them wanted to get out of bed.
He was such a sucker for that girl.
"I'm calm, I'm calm," he teased her with a grin, putting up his hands for an instant before handing someone a drink and taking notice of the drunk who made him correct his statement in a rather dry tone. "I think."
Buy her a drink? How stupid could he be? She'd just kissed the bartender, and this idiot thought she needed him to buy a drink for her? Whatever. "Actually, man, she's already covered," he informed the guy, leaning on the bar from his side to meet the guy's eyes. The bar was higher on the customer side for aesthetics, and he liked using that added height to his advantage when he needed it. "I'm buying her drinks."
Mars had greeted the offer from the evidently drunk bachelor with a blank stare and a stifled giggle of derision, which he apparently mistakened for interest. Leering and edging in a bit closer, he opened his mouth only to be greeted by Darren's rebuttal. That's when he, rather rudely, snapped his head towards the younger bartender and frowned nastily.
[span style=\'color:silver\']"I wasn't talkin' t'you," he informed Darren rather snappily, which was the second mistake of his night, and turned his eyes back on the slender asian, giving her a stomach-churning once-over, "So, little lady, what about it? Matter o' fact, why don't you get your cute little ass over there - " he gestured with a head tilt towards his cheering group of friends " - and give us a bit of entertainment?"
Mars expression transformed at a blindingly fast rate, from mildly bemused to insulted, but she quickly recovered, responding with a deceptively sweet demeanor.
"I'm sorry, but I don't dance for ugly people," she informed him rather crisply, "Now would you please step off?"
A few people around them had begun to turn their heads, curious at the exchange.[/span]
His bright green eyes had narrowed when the man snapped at him like that, but he let Mars handle her situation on her own, for the most part. He was waiting, though. The way the man looked her over just made him want to brain the man, but he couldn't without provocation. Once Mars had told the guy to go away though, he could step in, which he did.
The instant the man's mouth opened again, the expression on the drunk's face clearly stating he was insulted, Darren's hand slammed onto the bar between Mars and the drunk, his arm effectively blocking the man's 'conversation'. Darren got a few choice words out of the man, some having been directed at Mars, while the rest were aimed his way an instant later. He didn't care though, and merely smiled.
"Sounds to me like she said 'no', buddy," he told the man, flashing the idiot a fanged smile. It was the most discreet way of threatening someone that he knew, and he used it fairly often in the Hollow.
"Didn' I say I wasn't talkin' t'you?"
"She also said you were ugly," he pointed out, just as happily. If the guy was going to be difficult, he would be an ass.
He had been taken aback and then abruptly outraged when Darren had stepped in like that, and Mars had to stifle another amused laugh. The group of guys behind him were now speaking in hushed whispers instead of cheering, and a small crowd of people around them had halted in their drinking and socializing, riveting their eyes on the three.
Mars smoothly slid off the stool, and standing next to the man, he was easily six inches taller than she was. Unruffled, the man continued leering, though in some corner of his stupefied mind, he gathered that the situation had become slightly more serious than intended. He wasn't, however, about to appear like an idiot and do the walk of shame back without getting the last laugh, but when Darren flashed him the sharp incisors, he couldn't help but stumble back a few paces.
[span style=\'color:silver\']"Ehhh, shutcher piehole," he replied dismissively, then glanced towards Mars, "No drink, but you've gotta shake that," and with that, his final act of bravado and last dumb act of the night, he reached for Mars's butt, intending to give it a good smack.
She stopped his hand mere inches from her backside, expression now completely serious, "You really shouldn't have done that," she muttered lowly, and before the guy knew it, she had raised a fist and sent it flying towards the guy's cheek. It connected with a dull sound, and though she hadn't used full strength, it was still enough to knock him a few feet backwards.
By this time, the crowd had let out a collective gasp, and the group of the bachelor's friends had gotten to their feet, outraged. Mars wasn't fazed - they didn't look any more threatening than he had, but it probably wasn't a good idea to provoke a bar fight at this time of night.[/span]
Darren had hoped the guy would be smart enough to back down, but he was obviously just too inebriated to bother. Stupid city asshole, thinking he owned the world. Grabbing at Mars' ass was a bad idea, though. Hell, even Darren wouldn't try that under all but the best conditions in public. This guy was just looking fo--
Yeah, for a punch in the face.
Darren took a mere second to close his eyes and just mentally groan before he vaulted over the bar and got right inbetween Mars and the others. It figured that he'd have to break up a fight right at the end of his shift. "Mars, now might be a good time to head out to the car. I'll be out in...ten minutes," he told her over his shoulder, dealing with drunkards essentially being just an everyday part of the job by now. One of the idiot's friends picked up a glass bottle like a weapon, and he shot another glance at Mars.
"Make that fifteen, and head out the back. The Vet's waiting for you," he told her, right before focusing his attention on the drunk idiot and company. "Alright boys, here's the deal. I'm giving you 2 minutes to get out of here before I remove you."
She could sense the mixture of different reactions around her - some felt it completely hilarious and actually didn't bother to stifle their laughter, and others were openly calling her a whore. Mars couldn't have cared much either way, and instead shot the man a smirk and retrieved Darren's keys to the 'Vet from his back pocket, hand lingering there a bit longer than she had to - hey, she was still Mars, bar fight or not.
Nonplussed, she flounced towards the back exit and disappeared from view before the crowd, leaving Darren to deal with the drunkard. The cool air greeted her cheeks invitingly, and she slipped into the black leathered passenger's seat of the 'Vet, parked inconspicuously near the back entrance of the establishment under 'Employee Parking'. Even with the smog and pollution of the city, tonight the clouds had parted and it was clear out, revealing the lights of the city around her in all its glory.
Settling back into the seat, she plucked the keys from her pocket and switched it into 'on', then turned on some music and awaited Darren's emergence. It was a nasty habit that she had to kick, really, but Mars couldn't help but invite trouble with each step, unless she made a conscious effort not to.
Naturally, he didn't mind in the least that she swiped the car keys from his back pocket, and especially liked that her hand lingered there, though he really couldn't think too much about it just yet. He had a situation to handle first.
Fortunately, two of the men took his warning seriously and started for the door, leaving three men still standing there, including the idiot who'd been harassing Mars and the one with the bottle. Interesting enough, none of them reacted when he approached them in an attempt to herd them towards the door except to allow themselves to be pressured towards the exit for a few steps. Finally, the trouble he'd been expecting started up, just as he was thinking he might make it out to Mars sooner than he expected. It was the third man who suddenly twisted around to attack him, and Darren didn't really have a problem avoiding the hit. It was the first idiot jumping in just as suddenly that made things difficult, and the one with the bottle just complicated things further.
Darren took a glass bottle to the head, growled, and knocked one of them sprawling an instant later. The one with the bottle got him with it again, slashing up the arm he threw up to protect his face, and the leopard shifter was sure to remove that man from the fight as well. The only one still standing was the one Mars had punched, and Darren actually attributed that to the man being a bit slow. He hadn't been enough of a threat to really warrant striking. "You going to drag your idiot friends out of here now?" he snarled, finally pissed off enough to sound like he was. Bleeding from his arm and skull could do that, even if he'd heal up quickly. The man nodded.
"Then get that asshole off the floor and out the door," he ordered, grabbing the man he hadn't gestured to in order to carry him as far as the door and drop him just outside. Once the three of them were out of the bar with their other two friends, Darren didn't give a shit what happened to them. He had to cash out his checks and get outside to Mars, and that was what was on his mind. Considering the time, it was reasonable for her to be finished with his shift, so when he walked back inside, there wasn't much to discuss with Dave about it.
"That was fucking cowardly, that guy using the bottle," the werewolf remarked, and Darren snorted.
"It's not like they care. They probably thought they were slick, jumping me like that. Idiots."
"Doesn't make it any less cowardly. I hate people like that. Hey, how many open checks do you have?
"Two, and one of them is from Mars. Here's the other," he offered, handing a copy of the check over, then emptying his tip jar and paying the tab for Mars. Dave would take the other open check, and Darren was out of there. It took a grand total of about five minutes, putting him rather close to his estimated time of arrival at the car outside, a backpack slung over his shoulder. His injuries were healed by then, though there was still a bloodied series of tears in his white button-up work shirt, and blood soaked into the back of his collar from the head wound. He had blood in his hair on he back of his head as well, but none of it concerned him now that it had healed.
He knocked on the car's window to get her to unlock the doors, and smirked somewhat. She'd made herself comfortable with the radio and all rather quickly.
She opened her eyes from her brief repast, glad to see Darren out in one piece. Not that she intended on jumping in again and dragging his ass out of there - the last thing she needed was for Ash to get irritated with Darren and his troublemaking girlfriend. She unlocked the door rather rapidly and was pleased to see him slip in, removing the backpack for the backseat, and leaned in for a kiss or two.
That's when she spotted the nasty rips in his shirt and blood-lined arm, and then noted the spots along his back collar. Raising an eyebrow, she frowned.
"Bottle guy?" and before the words left her she knew it was him. Narrowing her eyes and reminding herself to kick the shit out of him the next time she ran into him - she had an uncanny ability to remember people's faces even when meeting them in passing - she touched a gentle, slender figure along his arm and neck, 'tsking' sympathetically. As she leaned back, she shot him a reproachful look and pouted.
"I'm sorry babe. But y'know me... " she trailed off, seeing no need to continue, leaning in to press her lips against his. Sometimes she wondered how he put up with it, really. Given her streak, her recklessness would get her in serious trouble one of these days. With the car now in ignition, the pair drove off the parking lot and pulled onto the highway easily. It was fifteen minutes south to their Greenwich Village apartment, and even at 3, the roads were dotted with automobiles.
Really, he wouldn't have even bothered to worry about the marks on his shirt except to throw the shirt away if she hadn't commented on them. She had no idea how many shirts had met the same fate. "Yeah, he seemed to think he was pretty smart, thinking to use a bottle," he remarked, rolling his eyes and smiling for her. She actually apologized, and she'd listened to him when he told her to head out to the car. Even if it all made sense, it was nice to see and hear.
"No big deal. There wasn't a fight all night, so I figured there was going to be one before my shift ended. Might as well have been you," he told her, shrugging as she started the drive home. "At least I didn't have to break up opposing sides." That truly was a nice switch, since most fights involved two different parties, usually supernatural. That last one had been a cakewalk.
She snarled softly, though a part of her still felt a guilty pang. Whether it was routine or not, Mars had been the cause of this incident, and had it not been for her recklessness, both she and Darren (but especially Darren) would've made it home in one piece, unscathed and unscarred.
The Corvette ran smoothly till they exited the highway and maneuvered through the city streets of upscale Greenwich, passing the Whole Foods market and local wine and cheese bar before passing into the parking garage of their apartment complex.
With a weary 'click', the door to their apartment, furnished mostly in vintage pieces, artful and simple designs, and the occasional painting, swung open and Chase was greeted by a light growl and a pur. Dante had lept off his sleeping pad situated by the doorway between the foyer and the kitchen, and greeted the girl with a gentle pur. Upon seeing Darren, Dante turned his back and strolled off without a word.
"He loves you, I swear it," she laughed, leaving the keys on the kitchen island and heading to their shared bedroom, removing her velvet blazer as she walked in. She couldn't wait to get out of the clothes and into the comfort of her sheer cami and panties. Besides, Darren liked it almost as much as she did when she stalked around the place in her just her underwear. It just FELT better, short of being stark naked.
As she walked towards the bedroom, her voiced trailed down the hallway, "The bread pudding and cupcakes are in the fridge..."
Living in Greenwich was something interesting, at least for him. His family had some money, but not nearly enough to pay for an apartment for him there, and he wouldn't ask it of them. Of course, his parents also thought it very important for him to pay for his own things since he was on his own, but even they couldn't argue with the generosity of the Lang family regarding their daughter and her boyfriend. And their apartment really was gorgeous, so all around, nobody was complaining.
Except the cat.
Dante, as much as Mars loved him, seemed to hate Darren. He didn't understand why the cat felt that way, but he had two theories. Either Dante didn't like him because he was a feline shifter and smelled like cat himself, or he was jealous of the attention he wasn't getting when Mars was spending time with Darren. Or, maybe it was both, who knew?
"Well, maybe someday he'll realize who usually feeds him," Darren remarked lightly about the cat, not even trying to reach down and pet it. He'd only get bitten or ignored.
Unlike Mars, who had gone to the bedroom to strip down to something comfortable immediately, Darren went for the kitchen. He did, at least, pull the somewhat bloodied shirt off and just drop it right in the trash, but that was as far as he got in cleaning up before peeking into the fridge for one of those cupcakes. He'd need a shower and then probably attack the shrimp afterwards.
Having already taken a shower as soon as she had gotten home with the goodies a few hours earlier, Chase had left her sweater and dark denim slung over the seat in front of their dresser. Examining herself in the mirror while she stood in front of it, she frowned slightly at the dried blood on her bandaged left hand, and peeled it off gingerly.
The wound beneath hadn't been terribly deep, but it seemed to have scabbed over nicely in the past few hours, much to Mars's relief. She didn't really need Darren fretting over an unhealed wound because really, he worried about her enough. She dotted some ointment on it - unnecessary for the healing, really, but vital for escaping it unscarred - and wrapped it up in a fresh layer of bandages.
Slipping into a pink satin camisole and silk panties, she was about to head over to the kitchen before she thought twice and pulled on a pair of faded, flannel pajama pants. They had actually been Darren's before she had snagged them, but he had only laughed and didn't seem to mind it in the least. Besides, she had gotten him new pairs ages ago, and he had worn this pair in rather nicely. Too nicely to just toss, anyway.
Sauntering out into the kitchen, she scooped up Dante along the way and cradled him, knowing that Darren would mutter something about the feline being 'unsanitary', but Mars knew better than that.
"Besides, you're the cleanest cuddly-wuddly kitty in the world," she cooed, smooching Dante. He licked her nose appreciatively, evoking a giggle from her, and she set him down to wander about the brightly-lit kitchen. Settling on the kitchen island, she observed Darren's rummaging as she rinsed her hands, dried them, and peered over the man's muscled shoulders.
"Behind the skim milk," she offered helpfully, with a laugh. Removing the melon liquor - which she had thankfully saved before exiting - from its bag, she walked over to the cabinets to retrieve two martini glasses. Ahh, domesticity.
He had to roll his eyes at her talking to Dante like that, since the cat surely loved the attention, and didn't deserve the compliment. That cat got into any mess he could manage around the house, and made plenty that he didn't get all over himself. Sanitary wasn't a word Darren would use to describe Dante. Ever.
"Ah, thank you," he said happily as he moved the skim milk to find his prize. He pulled the whole box out, just in case Mars wanted one, and had to shoo Dante away from the counter in the process. Fortunately, he was wearing shoes still and was safe from little feline teeth. Dante was surprisingly vicious in the face of the much bigger feline he lived with. Darren could deal with it, though. Mars made it worth it, and it made him smirk every time he saw her wearing those flannel pants she'd swiped from him. He didn't understand why she liked it so much, but seeing her in any of his clothes was kind of...cute. It also reminded him of just how tiny she was, though. He both liked that and hated it, all things considered.
With the cupcakes on the island, he popped the box opened and made an appreciative sound of approval. "Well done, Mars. They look amazing." Not that she'd made them or anything, but he approved of her taste.
"Mmhrhgh," she muttered something in agreement; it was probably 'mmhm', but already the chocolate butternut frosting had nearly glued her tongue and the roof of her mouth together, and she swallowed the rich bite before digging deeper into the sprinkle and candy-covered confection, not even bothering to notice the dab of frosting that had found its way to the tip of her nose. It rested there in all its chocolaty glory, with the consumer blissfully ignorant of its rather cute presence.
"Yea, I figured half chocolate, three vanilla, and three strawberry made an even dozen. You know how I annihilate these things," she slid smoothly off the stool then and sauntered to the fridge again, licking her fingers and leaving the half-eaten cupcake on the counter for now.
Retrieving the cardboard boxful of the leftover shrimp scampi, she quickly assembled a sauteeing pan and let the contents of the leftovers warm on the stove with a quick flick of her wrist, turning on the electric stove.
"Shower now or later?" the aromas of the garlic-butter sauce quickly filled the kitchen, and Mars gave the pan a quick stir.
Alright, so even if he dug into his own little cake, that bit of frosting on her nose was just too much to resist. He let her get as far as the stove with the shrimp while he finished off his own cupcake (three bites, no problem) before he stepped up behind her. His arms slid around her waist while his head slipped right in against her neck, kissing lightly before he reached up to tip her face more towards him. He could have easily gone for a real kiss right then, but he didn't.
No, he smiled wickedly and licked the frosting off of her nose.
"Mmm, you're such a messy eater," he teased, though he now found himself with a decision on his hands. He needed to go get a shower because he had dried blood in his hair by now, but that shrimp and garlic butter smelled amazing. "That smells good, but my hair's pretty gross right now," he pointed out. Personally, he could sit through a meal like that at this point, but he had no idea what her breakdown of the evening included. If it would be more convenient to get his shower out of the way first thing, he wasn't going to complain.
Mars couldn't help the small giggly that escaped her as she felt his hands slide smoothly around her waist, half from amusement at his antics and half from the fact that he knew she was just a tad ticklish there. Despite that, she held onto the spatula even as he reached her nose, then rubbed the place where the frosting had formerly resided rather sheepishly.
"Caught me. I was hungry!" she pointed out, before waving the spatula around the pan's contents once more, "And I'd love to let these festivities... continue, but you need your shower and I need to add a few more ingredients to spice up these leftovers," she muttered softly, as if in protestation of his hands around her waist and his affectionate kisses. The way her body pressed against his, though, suggested otherwise.
Before things got a bit too heated, a low growl came from their ankles. Dante peered up at them expectantly, intelligent chocolate eyes searching for that elusive seafood he could now smell as well.
That 'suggesting otherwise' was enough to make him hesitate, but she was right about him needing that shower. She wasn't going to want to be near him all that much if he stunk of alcohol, smoke and blood, now would she? Of course, he wasn't against a little affection before he disappeared to clean up, but he wasn't going to get very far. Dante decided otherwise.
Darren stared down at the other feline, raising an eyebrow at it. For such a small animal, the housecat was surprisingly fierce, but he'd be damned if it was getting at his seafood. He had no doubt Mars would toss Dante a few pieces, simply because the cat was spoiled, and there was nothing he could do about that, but he tried to put a limit on just how spoiled Dante was.
He dropped another kiss on her skin, right where her shoulder met her neck, and his lips practically brushed against her skin when he spoke. "I won't be long then, and try to keep the little fiend from swiping all the shrimp," he requested. And so, even if it wasn't his preference, he peeled himself away to go shower.
Another soft chuckle, as Mars reached a slender arm upwards and brushed his side with her fingertips, seeming to have forgotten about the small animal. When Darren stole away for his shower, however, she scooped up two pieces of shrimp and tossed them at Dante, who lept up in the air and caught them with such agility that Mars briefly considered tossing him some more before remembering Darren's warning and deciding not to.
Opening up the spice cabinet, she drizzled a dab of sesame oil on the dish for taste, then went heavy on the pepper and thyme. There were those little cherry tomatoes in the fridge too, which were quickly tossed in, with some fresh sprigs of basil. Mars had never really thought of herself as a 'domestic' type, but surprisingly, she threw simple meals together fairly well.
Turning off the stove, she doled the leftover scampi on a shallow, mint-green dish, garnishing it with some more fresh basil, and set it on the kitchen island along with the rest of the cupcakes and some of the bread pudding, too, which she set to warming up in the oven. By the time Darren was done with his shower, the pans had been cleaned, and Mars was quickly pouring out the cocktails - 1 part melon liquor, 1 part lemon/lime juice, and 1 part Squirt soda, which gave it a tangy kick - into two martini glasses. The aroma of bread pudding hung in the air.
Well, he was hardly going to miss only two pieces of shrimp, so Dante was welcome to those. He had a habit of slipping the little feline scraps of 'people food' on occasion as well, though he didn't do it often when Mars was around. No sense in confirming her belief that he was a bit of a softie, especially since Dante gave him plenty of reasons not to.
The shower felt incredible, especially when it came to washing his face and hair. He'd noticed that his face felt the grossest after a full shift of him slipping into the kitchen to grab customers' food and spending the rest of the night behind the bar, and he could only assume it was the air in the kitchen and the smoke in the bar. It was pretty gross, but it made showers extra-pleasant after work. Mars beat showers, though. Especially when she cooked, even if it was simple and not all that often.
"You know, if you keep feeding me this well, I might stop cooking altogether," he threatened happily as he wandered out in a pair of the aforementioned pj pants she'd gotten him and an old tee. Comfy clothes. "This all smells excellent."
Mid-pour, she glanced up at him, freshly scrubbed from the shower, and privately thought that he'd made a better dessert than the bread pudding. Keeping such thoughts to herself and revealing nothing but a bit of a grin, Mars flashed him those honeyed eyes and slipped in a curved smile.
"I can't say my cocktails are better than yours," she remarked, topping each with a bit of lime, "But I still make a mean scampi, no?"
Dante had gone off somewhere to amuse himself, leaving the studio lights in the kitchen illuminating a softly tiled beige floor without the constant feline shadow. As they ate - he his scampi and she a bit of the bread pudding and the remainder of that cupcake - she recalled something he might've been curious to know. Besides, anything was better than reminding him of that wound she had.
"Y'know Eliska? That pretty young grad student who's TA'ing my Economics discussion group? The other day she turned her head and I could've sworn that she had feathers at the nape of her neck. I mean, I've known for a while that she's a shifter now, but since she's never said anything to me... but a golden eagle?" she raised an eyebrow at him, "Think this is anything to write home about?"
He may have been oblivious of her thoughts, but something similar had already crossed his mind regarding her. They were very much on the same page in that regard. "Yes, I do have to agree that you make a good scampi, so I will stand aside for you to work your magic there from now on," he told her happily. He was more than fine with letting her cook when she found something she liked to make and made well. Digging into the dish only cemented that in his mind, and he actually didn't have anything to say until she brought up Eliska.
She'd told him about the girl, but if he'd met her, it'd been brief. He thought that he could have figured out what sort of shifter she was by scent alone, but he was interested to hear that she was an eagle. He hadn't ever seen one. "I'm no expert on other shifters, but I've never seen an eagle. I could mention it to my mother and see if she's ever heard anything about them, but maybe you should say something to Eliska about it if it won't freak her out that you know. I imagine a golden eagle would be kind of rare, no?"
She took a few sips of the cocktail and retrieved a pewter spoon from the silverware drawer, digging into the bread pudding with that. Dipping the spoonful of bread pudding in the creamy sweet sauce, she licked her lips before taking it to her mouth and chewing thoughtfully.
"Mmm. Yeah. I meant to bring it up to Connor but I haven't seen him in a few days," she added darkly, running slender fingers through her dark hair, "And if Eliska really is a golden eagle... I'm almost certain that she knows it's particularly rare, no?" The girl must've known it herself, "But maybe I'll hold off until after this semester's over. Maybe she's sensitive about it or something."
With another shrug, she finished off her first cupcake. At the rate she was going with sweets, one would've thought her enormous by now, but thankfully she had her training to maintain a trim figure.
"But otherwise - how's graduation gearing up?"
She could enjoy that bread pudding all she wanted, since he had eyes only for the scampi. She was going to hate him later, when she wanted to be close and he stunk of garlic, but he couldn't resist. He'd have some of the bread pudding afterwards in an attempt to neutralize some of the garlic, but not yet.
"I haven't seen Connor either, actually," he said, frowning. Usually, he ran into his cousin at least once a week. Of course, he also hadn't been going to the guild to do any training. "I'm sure he's just busy and we'll catch him next time we're in the Guildhouse, and you can bring it up to him then. That man's like a damn cockroach, he'll outlive everyone. Eliska might not know how rare a golden eagle is, though."
He stopped, considering it over the pasta. The only way the woman could really understand how rare her form was and what that meant would have been for someone else to tell her. If nobody had yet, then she would be shockingly easy to grab, if someone wanted to. Of course, his form was supposedly rare, and he hadn't had any trouble, either.
"Eh, it's gearing up just like it should. Course work's a pain, professors stressing themselves and us out over everything they've ever said in class, typical," he said with a dismissive wave of his fork. Of course, graduation. It was strange, what his worries had become as he got older. He'd gone from worrying about getting a car and a job when he was graduating high school to being responsible for his boss' safety against a couple of crazy, scary vampires and worrying that his girlfriend was going to get carved up fighting monsters as he tried to graduate college. Wonderful.
Her golden gaze had taken on a glimmery quality as he described his plans gearing up for graduation. She'd be there that day with flowers and balloons, undoubtedly.
"Yeah, I hear Professor Reed isn't taking it easy on you at all. What about after graduation?" she took another sip of her cocktail as she finished off her share of the bread pudding. The alcohol had finally taken a bit of a toll on her, imparting on her cheeks a glowy, dewy sort of sheen. She indiscretely stole a piece of the scampi with her fork, and a brush by her ankle told her that Dante had come a-calling once more.
"Shush-- no more shrimp for you," she cooed again, gazing down to the cat, who shot her a somewhat mournful expression and went to snapping at Darren's ankle.
"Ow," he said sharply, though not so much because it hurt, but to acknowledge the cat's 'affections'. He then moved his foot, mindful of where the cat was, in the hopes that it would vacate his general vicinity for fear of getting kicked next time. It didn't really work, considering this was Dante and not a normal cat, but he tried. "Little monster."
Back to the conversation at hand, though. "Eh, I guess I'll stay at the Hollow for awhile to figure things out and throw a few resumes out there. Ash isn't all that well, so they could use the help up there. From there, I guess we'll see what I can land in the job market," he explained, shrugging some. "Reed's being a total ass, though. I swear, he loves the pained groans he hears when he assigns some new nightmare."
"So long as he takes it easy on your thesis, it'll be fine," she reassured him with a wry grin, reaching her free hand across the table and tracing his veins idly with slender fingers, her touch featherweight and capable of sending shivers down his spine, given the right mood. Dante seemed to sulk off with a sort of reluctance, and snapped at Darren's heels once more before nimbly stalking off, presumably to amuse himself with some squeaky toy.
"Not a monster!" she protested, "He's the squeakiest-cleanest, cutest widdle munster everrr," she couldn't help the cooing around the darned cat! She finished off her cocktail, savoring its tartness in her mouth, then slipped the lime garnish in her mouth before circling around the island to Darren and his finished scampi with the platter of bread pudding. It neared four in the morning, and despite their meal, neither of them were quite tired yet.
Settling down in the stool next to him instead of across from him, she dangled her legs over the stool before setting them on his lap gently, letting out a rather girlish laugh, and spooned a bit of the bread pudding towards him.
"Honestly, I don't believe your prejudice against my poor animal."
'The right mood' was just about all the time, whether she knew it or not, but he'd let her figure that out. She didn't need to know yet another way of getting to him, though she may have caught the reaction anyway. He shot the cat an annoyed look to cover it up, though.
"Prejudice! Poor animal!" he gasped, looking appalled. "What about me? Aren't I your poor animal, too? He bit first!"
Actually, Dante was the only one who bit. Darren knew better, since he'd probably eat the little fiend if he ever bit. He had a habit of scaring the thing out of whatever room he was in when he wandered the apartment in leopard form, though. Maybe the cat was just getting back at him while he was in the 'less intimidating' human form. Bah, whatever, that cat was a pain.
"You know, the only reason he's clean is because I braved his claws and bathed him the last time he made a mess. Remember, I told you about the flour incident? You know what happens when flour gets wet in a cat's fur? A certain boyfriend gets mauled trying to bathe it, that's what." He had to grin at the memory of it, though. Dante had, somehow, managed to not only knock the bag of flour off the counter and into the sink, but get himself wet and coated in the flour. It made an almost doughy mess in the cat's fur. Darren had been the first one home, so he'd cleaned up.
Her slender calves fidgeted slightly as she reached down to shoo Dante off, and as he stalked off, Mars turned her attention to his retelling of the flour incident and feigned a shocked expression.
"You don't say... He'll repay you someday for all your kindness," she murmured, tone utterly confident in her feline's sense of reciprocity, "You don't give him enough credit. But before he could respond, she silenced him with a spoonful of the sticky, warm bread pudding, heavily spiced and decorated with bits of cinnamon and warm raisins.
"Oops," she muttered as a stray bit of the cream sauce found its way onto his cheek, and she swiped it up in one clean stroke of her finger and licked it off absently.
He rolled his eyes at her teasing, since he didn't honestly believe the cat would ever return any such favors, but he didn't get the chance to say anything. It was probably for the best, though. He didn't need to argue with her about her cat, and the pudding was good.
Really good, in fact. Good enough that he didn't try anything tricky when she swiped the bit of cream from his face, though his eyes followed her every movement. She was just too good of a tease. "That was very good," he told her, being intentionally vague about whether he was talking about the pudding or her antics. "Have anymore of it?"
"A lot more where that comes from," she replied smoothly, allowing the cream on her finger to be wiped by her tongue, allowing its roughness to linger for a while before she gave a chuckle and contented herself with the bread pudding and his cocktail for a bit, before a yawn couldn't help but escape her.
She writhed a little, stretching, "I've got this incredible kink in my lower back," she remarked offhandedly, meaning nothing behind it for once, "It was probably from that fight a few nights ago."
"Tease," he accused happily, watching her lick her finger and then proceed to help herself to his drink. Really, it was fine with him. He'd never been much of a drinker, and having smelled the alcohol all night meant that he really didn't mind if she drank some of his. He was more interested in what he was seeing and hearing, anyway. She may have meant nothing other than what she said, but he couldn't help guttering the statement.
"Yes, baby, I know you do," he answered, meaning both from the fight she mentioned, and in a slightly obscene manner. "Want me to rub it out?"
Now, THAT offer wasn't really sexual in the least. Sure, he enjoyed touching her and rubbing her back for her, and his thoughts would definitely stray during it, but he'd never minded trying to massage out tense muscles for her. He'd never say that he was amazingly good at it, but he tried.
"Ehh, it can wait," she muttered back, relishing the taste mingling on her tongue, a pleasantly tart mixture of melon and lemon juice. Her response was a throwback to how careless she could be sometimes, and her tendency to overwork herself until her injuries proved too severe to continue for a few days, or extend longer into the healing period than she had originally intended. Either way, her unwillingness to have Darren sort out any of her booboos was a similar ego deal - she didn't want him to worry or see any of the suffering, so she almost never mentioned anything that was remotely serious.
Yawning just a slight bit, she glanced at the clock - nearing 4 AM. Their food done, Mars slid off the stool and gathered the dirty dishes to soak in the sink for tomorrow, then stifled another yawn before stealing another kiss from Darren.
"I'll brush my teeth. Take your time here; meet you back in the bedroom," she nipped some at his ear, very gently, and with a laugh sauntered into their bedroom, completing her bedroom routine before slipping under the satin sheets and goose down comforter. She doubted Darren wanted nookie - he had looked tired - though she was alright either way, figuring that if he made a move or any signal, they'd go for it. She wouldn't pressure him. As she crawled under the covers, feeling the coolness of the fabric caress her bare skin, she remembered with delight that he hadn't asked to examine her arm injury.