Vampires vs. Trappers

3. New Enemies

"Jameson!" I call out as Zain and I burst back into the house through the garage door.

He doesn't even have to reply, as we hear his heavy breathing and follow it like two hounds on the hunt; Zain close in step beside me. It doesn't take but a second before we flash into the kitchen, and immediately spot Jameson leaning up against the island counter in the middle of his luxurious kitchen. He lets out a deep huff, in what I can only assume is shame and frustration, while pouring himself a glass of Dalmore 62 Single Highland Malt Scotch. He doesn't even look up to acknowledge us, as it's automatically recognized when our ever-intimidating entities are present.

Zain and I instantly pick up on his hesitation to make eye contact with either of us, so we slow our pace as we approach him, naturally mimicking the role and slyness of a panther; how it slows to play with it's food before delivering the final, fatal blow.

"Pretty expensive drink you got there, Jameson." Zain observes lowly, and flashes me a quick, mutual look of understanding, before turning back to watch Jameson's every movement; slowly and dauntingly.

Zain and I both know full-well that Jameson only breaks out the good stuff when he knows he's either in deep shït, or he's hiding something.

Zain stops at the opposite end of the island, while I pass up Jameson completely and walk straight over to the cupboards to retrieve two short glasses. I can practically smell the bitter scent of fear and intimidation radiating off of him as I turn back and stop directly in front of him. I stare him down for a moment, studying his nervous, almost unresponsive mannerisms as he continues to stare down at the calm brown liquor in his cup. I then set the two glasses down in front of the bottle of the sixty-three thousand dollar scotch he seems to be preying on for strength.

Finally, after another moment or two, he gathers the confidence to lift his eyes to meet mine, but as soon as he does, there's just no hiding the fear in his gaze, or the prominent frown on is lips.

Though, our eyes don't hold a connection for very long, as mine instinctively flicker down to the short glasses and then back up at him expectantly, "Dalmore; a fine brand of Alness-brewed whiskey..." I gather, tilting my head to the side and putting my finger to my chin, pondering a certain thought having suddenly come to mind, "I wonder if the bottle feels just as good as the alcohol tastes... Hmm. Curiouser and curiouser." I mock, before donning a sadistic smile at the enticing idea.

Jameson just narrows his eyes at me in confusion, clearly at a loss for understanding regarding what I'm hinting at, while Zain on the other hand is trying to hide the amused smirk tugging at his lips.

I glance over at him directly with a bit of hope, seeking approval through eye contact, but he simply shakes his head at me in return, all the while still holding onto the same hint of twisted satisfaction. We've been together for so long now that he knows almost all of my games before I've even addressed them outright.

I was hoping to play a little drinking game, consisting of seeing just how much of the Dalmore 62 Whiskey bottle I could shove up Jameson's äss before something ripped, but sadly, my fun is always cut short due to Zain's annoying sense of responsibility and 'professionalism in the work place'.

So, as a result, I just pout my bottom lip and let out a huff in response, "You're no fun." I bite back at Zain, and he only chuckles darkly to himself in acknowledgment, which in return just leaves Jameson all the more confused.