Lovely art by Kathy Long.
Don't use it without my permission or I will fucking gut you.

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A few days went by after the incident with the young, blonde, vampiress in Charlie's room, and the immediate burning and dumping of the body, before Charlie remembered about the week of dinner he owed the sheriff by winning the game of strip poker that very same night before the incident. After another day's worth of hard work assisting Elstahn at the forge, Charlie had wandered home in a drowsy stupor, cleaning up in his room before fumbling over to Angelique's room and rapping on the door with his knuckles. “Ey. I'm here tuh pay back m'debts. Y'know, dinner for a week?” The door swung inwards, and a frazzled brunette in a half-closed blouse and breeches stepped up to the doorway, leaning on the frame for support, her face contorted in pain. “You said the first month was painful, but Jesus, what is this?” The woman's eyes constantly shifted from a dark brown to a bright gold, while the gamblin' man's eyes seemed to wander off in the direction of down. Down to the obvious breasts trying to escape the loose confines of the blouse, and across the gashes right above that had finally healed up into a slightly ghastly-looking set of scars. “Dinner?”

The woman whistled and pointed up to her face. “Eyes are up here, DuPont, unless growing another set somewhere else happens with this whole thing.” The man's lips hardened into a thin line before his eyes flicked back up again. “I'll be down in a few moments. Let me just... Yeah.” Buttoning up the rest of her blouse and closing the door in Charlie's face, Angelique escaped to the confines of her room and retreated further into the bathroom, cleaning herself up a bit and making herself more presentable. Fumbling through the doors and down the stairs, finally regaining proper footing after getting to the bottom of the steps, Angelique made a face of relief as the waves of pain and nausea stopped. Holding up a basket with goodness-knows-what inside with a single finger, Charlie bobbed his head to the side, motioning to the door. “'s a clear night out, thought we could, I dunno, picnic...Or something.”

Real bloody smooth, yeh berk. What are yeh doin', romancing th' sheriff with pansy picnics and this gooshy romantic shit? As Angelique walked out the door, Charlie made a face of sheer discouragement at the sudden intrusion of a 'conscience' long absent from the recesses of his mind. The fox dressed in man's clothing, with a stupid vulpine grin, his man-like, furry, anthromorphic body, and the tail twitching behind him. Shaddup. Walking briskly out the door and somewhat trying to improve his drastically dampened disposition before Angelique could read the look on his face and misinterpret it as something else entirely. As they walked slowly towards the riverside, completely ignoring the shallow grave that held the dusted vampire behind the inn, Angelique spoke up asking a few questions. “I know I've read your file about two or three dozen times, but it doesn't really answer a few of the questions ratting around in my head.”

Setting down a tablecloth and a few glasses, uncorking a bottle of whiskey and pouring the golden-brown liquid into the glasses, sitting down upon the cloth and offering a glass to Angelique as she eased her way down, sitting beside him, but not too close. This was the repayment of a debt, not a romantic dinner for two by the... Okay, never mind. This is a romantic dinner for two by the riverside. “What exactly are you interested in, besides gambling and making my life a living hell more and more directly each day?” A small chuckle escaped the gamblin' man's lips as he responded quietly. “M'dad was a tinkerer and me mum an engineer. I guess clockwork is in th' blood, because as soon as I learned how to read the time, I was taking apart the putting back together clocks. Love the things, though the tickin' seems to drive everyone mad. M'room back at th' homestead has all it's walls covered top t' bottom in clocks. All of 'em tickin' in unison.”

The sheriff listened with unparalleled interest, somewhat fascinated by how someone obsessed with clockwork could turn to larceny, petty thievery, and gambling. “Crime also runs in th' blood. Mum fled France after stealin' some really valuable plans from th' president. Dad was an underground bare-knuckle boxer, workin ' for a dog of an Irishman and kicking the living bejesus outta everyone he was pitted against.” Angelique had done some research on the gamblin' man's father, and an investigation was opened on the tinkerer several decades earlier for dealings in illegal gambling rings. Drinking deeply from the glass, both parties looked out at the river, watching it's lazy flow buck over the rocks jutting out here and there. Dinner was quiet, though Angelique could tell by the distant expression and deep frown on Charlie's face that something was bothering him to the extreme.

So, Charlie-boy. Gonna sweep the right side of the law off 'er feet an' obtain a little sugar? The beast within his mind padded up to the fox man and raised his hackles, growling in the process, his tail straightening to a point. Oh, so this was yer idea, eh mutt? Yeh know what happened last time I left 'im in the care of some she-wolf? He became one uv yeh, against muh lady's wishes. The beast growled again, now sitting down with his ears flat against his skull, leering at the fox-man. Whatever part of this conversation took place, it took place out of sight, sound, and mind of Charlie.

Your patron, despite being the man's mother, has nothing to do with his decisions and the will of my master. The wolf stood up on all fours, taking on a predatory stance and nature, circling the fox-man. Bullshit it has nothing to do with it! It has everything to do with it! She wanted him pure and normal. Just as the Grand Design willed it to be! The fox-man drew out a switchblade from within his sleeve, making a wary stance of his own and continuing this circling routine with the wolf. Well, apparently the Grand Design's plans fluctuate so much that the both up us can't keep up. Lady Luck can't call all the shots, you know. She may be a deity, just like my Wild Hunt, but she's an underling in comparison to whatever that tricky bastard has planned out for all of us. The two circled round and round, never looking away from each other's targets. The fox-man knew he couldn't outrun the wolf, taking on another form would take too long, and the wolf was already very intimate with the landscape of Charlie's mind, at least, the way the Wild Hunt had warped it. Before the man had been savaged, his mind was a blank space, only showing any signs of color or expression whenever the man experienced a horrible, raw emotion.

The fight between the two animals would have to wait, because dinner was now over, Charlie was cleaning up, and the two of them were walking back to the inn, chatting to one another about different things, and avoiding the subjects of their histories and anything to do with lycanthropy in general. Perhaps another time guv'nuh. We gotta see if he bags th' gal t'night. The wolf made a gesture that was very similar to the rolling of eyes before replying. Doubtful. You influence his decisions more heavily than you think. Scoffing at the comment as the two full-bellied humans staggered here and there up the stairs and into bed, only bothering to remove boots and shoes, the fox-man pulled a cigar from inside of his coat, lighting it and taking a few puffs, rolling his eyes at the fact the two of them were acting so much like a married couple already, despite their lack of information on one another, their obvious rivalry when it came to the justice system, Charlie's fear of commitment, and the fact that since the evening of the strip poker game, neither of them seemed to be very touchy-feely with one another and over-extending in romantic gestures. Though this picnic nonsense was Charlie's half-assed attempt at being a romantic.

The fox-man chuckled as he continued to puff on the cigar as the man fell into a slumber. Retreating into a locked portion of Charlie's subconscious, the fox man sat down on a rock and leaned back, looking up at a blonde woman with brown eyes that had suddenly made her way onto the scene. Nice t' see yeh, Lucky Lady. The woman gave a slight nod of acknowledgment as she sat beside the fox, looking out at the scene of the two sleepers. It's been awhile since yer boyo was infatuated with somethin' dangerous. Thought th' oriental was th' last 'n final one. The woman shook her head and let out a silvery laugh. No such luck, dear. He's too much like myself and his father to barricade himself away from such things for long. Though I am somewhat displeased the Wild Hunt of all people decided to force them together instead of letting everything go it's natural route.

Sitting back and crossing one leg over another, the 'Lucky Lady' gazed upon her son before admiring the woman snuggling up against his chest. She could tell that the woman was strong, or at least stubborn as all hell, with a few weaknesses of her own. A perfect host in case the time came for her to walk the mortal plane again. Yer not thinkin' of takin' over anutha body, are yeh? The woman shook her head, but let off a slightly devious grin. Not yet. Not until she wants to start gambling with some pretty dangerous things. As she finished her statement, the Lucky Lady was gone within a flash, a breeze of golden dust blowing away in her wake. As the lady disappeared, the wolf padded over and sat next to the fox-man, choosing the grass over the mossy rock. Has she always been so flashy? A chuckle came from the fox-man's furry lips before he licked his chops. Oh yeah. She's always doin' somethin' to piss some'un off. She should be a patron of peacocks, with the way she carries 'erself.

• • • • •

OH GOD, THERE WASN'T ANY ACTUAL PORN IN HERE. OH SHIT. I'M SO SORRY. THERE IS A POINT TO ALL THIS, I PROMISE.
Charlie belongs to me, and Angelique belongs to Kathy Long.
All rights reserved, blah, blah, blah, copyright bullshit.
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