Batty 4
20250413
Part 3 here. Index here.
Sadly, before Caroline scrapes together an explanation the doorbell goes.
“Oh!” She pushes the beast to one side, ignoring his indignant meow, and bounds up. “That must be the blood people!”
Tsk. Typical. Two minutes ago their arrival would have been a relief; at this moment it’s an inconvenience. Oh well. I do want to recover. Asking about this apparently scandalous “family history project” can wait.
I glare warningly at the lurking beast, who flicks his whiskers then flops to wash his butt in my direction. Charming. At least he’s staying at a safe distance. Granted, he probably has no interest attacking me now I’m in my proper form…
Speaking of “proper form”, one of the ‘blood people’ is asking Caroline what I consider to be remarkably personal questions. It sounds like they know each other? But still!
“-he’s injured and-”
“Ohh lordy. What were you two doing?”
I can hear his smirk. It makes my fangs itch.
“WE WEREN’T DOING ANYTHING DARYL GET YOUR FUCKING MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER!”
I decide that honest humiliation is better than this second-hand awkwardness. So I cough and - with painstaking lack of aggression - call “I got brought down mid-air by her cat and dragged in. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to grow the rest of my arm back.”
“Right you are, sir.” This second voice is all brisk business, the crisp RP accent immediately placing him as a foreign student. Sure enough when the two men enter the kitchen, one is a hefty fellow with the local look and the other a young man I’d peg as being from India.
I am quietly grateful that “Daryl” leaves the actual work to “Nallisami”, who conducts himself with admirable professional ease despite the situation. In minutes he’s assessed my injuries, checked my humours, and assembled an appropriate dose.
All while stoically ignoring the insufficiently hushed heated conversation going on in the hallway. I try to emulate him but I’m hampered by supernaturally sharp hearing and a mundane nosy parker impulse.
Why is this Daryl so het up about Caroline finding a vampire in her kitchen? I hope I - or rather, that blasted cat - haven’t caused her trouble.
“-would’ve thought you’d at least offer, save you an appointment-”
“Oh my god you are so gross!”
Despite how it stings, her reaction is reasonable. Most people only know vampires from mainstream media, and, well… I wouldn’t want to let one of those freaks anywhere near me.
She was polite to my face. I tell myself that counts for more. She even asked for help with something and took my number, which is a, as it were, humanising-
“I’m surprised he didn’t ask.”
As if! Honestly, the idea…
Caroline responds with appropriate disdain; “Most people aren’t degenerates. Thankfully.”
Well. I’m glad to be (presumably) included in that.
“Did you mention your-”
“No, because it wasn’t relevant.”
…Her what? What could possibly…? This is what eavesdropping gets you; burning questions you can’t ask. What an evening.