Batty 2

Part 1 here. I felt I ought to have another go at this “meet cute” thing.

“Alright, they said someone ought to be here in half an hour or so.” Caroline pockets her phone and shoots me an awkward smile.

“Right. Thank you.”

Lying on the floor is embarrassing, but asking her to help me up would be worse. Though, at least then I’d be out of reach of that blasted cat. I appreciate that she keeps nudging him away from me. If only the kitchen had a door I could ask her to shut him out.

Then again… would she want to be alone with a monster? Even an injured one?

Caroline breaks the silence. “This is so… I really feel I ought to be offering you a cuppa, but I don’t… can you drink? Um, y’know, stuff other than…”

“Oh, er, yes.” I will need to sit up for that, but at this point I’d rather swallow the indignity of asking for help than spend half an hour staring politely past each other.

“Oh good!” Caroline relaxes and beams. Clearly relieved to have something normal to focus on. “How do you take it? Or are you a coffee person?”

I had been, but not being able to draw sustenance from ‘normal’ food also meant being immune to their effects. Losing caffeine had been a real drag.

“Tea’s fine. Just black, please.”

Would asking her to add salt be freaky? Probably. And it wouldn’t improve the flavour that much. Best to focus on being polite and not too… monstrous.

“Righto!” Caroline fusses with the kettle and a cupboard and then another cupboard at the other end of the kitchen (has she never heard of “zoning”?).

I manoeuvre myself upright as gracefully as I can. Perhaps it’s better to say with as little gracelessness as I can manage. Being propped against a cupboard is actually less comfortable than lying on the floor but at least I can drink a cup of tea like this.

“Here we go!” Caroline hands me a sturdy mug emblazoned with some logo I don’t recognise.

“Thank you.” I offer another carefully fang-free smile.

She hovers for a moment, at a loss, then settles herself on the floor opposite me.

“O-oh, you don’t have to…” With the mug taking up my working hand I can’t point, so lean and jerk my head towards the table in the corner. “It’s fine, honest. No point both of us being uncomfortable.”

“Ah, I couldn’t! It would be so…”

We sit staring at the floor. Quashed by manners.

‘Louie’ wanders over to climb into her lap. Safely away from me. She absently pets him, and the beast produces a surprisingly winsome purr.

How long until the blood gets here? The oven clock reads 2:38 but I didn’t think to note what time she made the call. And I don’t want it to seem like I’m desperate to be out of here.

“So, uh…” I cast about for a normal, human topic of small talk. “How long have you been in Withshim? Are you local?”

Part 3 here.