Mine! (m x b)

Chapter Eight: How Avant-garde! ((updated 2022))

☆☆ Anyone got to go to remedies for their periods? I make myself chocolate mug cake with whipped cream topping☆☆

Alistair

Of course, I lied.

This was an important phone call, I just had to listen in.

I took a glass from the cabinet when he wasn't paying attention and pressed it to the door. With my supernatural hearing, I could understand everything. From the bickering to the vampire explanation, I had no doubt the woman on the line was a vampire.

She sounded oddly similar to the woman who visited earlier with that doctor, I could only assume it was her.

I jumped back as he sighed impatiently, tapping his fingers on the armrest of the chair. "Hey,"

I looked up.

"What's your blood type? And can you pass me the basket over to the right?" He pointed to the woven basket on the right of the table.

"I don't know." I handed him the basket that he un-lidded, revealing a ton of knitting supplies and two giant, stake-like knitting needles. He went to work on a Louis blue color.

For a moment, he silently stitched, his profile highlighted by the soft sun pouring through the window. His nose was short and small, with a button nose, a set of heart-shaped lips, and the top lip a tad smaller than the bottom. His eyes were upturned, those stormy grey pupils framed by dark and long-ish eyelashes. He had a small light sprinkling of moles and freckles on the bridge of his nose. His atrocious hair was black and white layered. It made my heart pang, unconsciously. He was simply too pretty. Well, except for the hair.

Goddamn it Alistair hold yourself together. He's just food. A big, delicious bowl of blood soup. You just have to rip open the can.

"So, your hair is ... interesting. Is there a reason behind it?" He paused knitting.

"So ... I..." he cleared his throat. "I had a pretty traumatic childhood, and all the stress from it kinda turned parts of my hair grey. But I didn't like the way it looked so I dyed it white."

You look like a skunk.

"Hey, don't bully the guy with the giant knitting needles!" He laughed, holding one up menacingly. "Did I say that out loud?" I gasped. "I didn't mean to."

"Eh, it's okay I guess. It's just nicer than the grey." He resumed knitting.

"Would you like to know your blood type? I can get you tested."

"Ah," I clicked my teeth. "I prefer my life to be a mystery. Thanks."

He snorted, pausing knitting to look at me with a wide grin. "You're a funny guy, Ali."

I gave a nod in thanks. "What is it that you're knitting?" I asked, eyeing the craft.

"A scarf. For you. You're freezing. You're like ... a vampire!" He paused between his words and shouted vampire.

Is that a scare tactic? I snorted at him. "You're crazy. Vampires don't exist."

"Yeah, yeah. But if they did," he eyed me from under his lashes. "I bet they would look just like you. You look like an Anne Rice vampire."

"Maybe I'm just a vampire pretending to be human pretending to be a vampire."

"How avant-garde!"