Rabbit Blood

Chapter 8 - Might Swing By

A miserable day dawned over the city, and acid rain kept the majority populace indoors. Even Sir Pentious and Cherri Bomb called half-time on their ongoing feud.

Leslie meandered around the first floor, wearing her shirt, leggings and sneakers today. Hearing voices from the Group 1 meeting room, she hunkered in the doorway to eavesdrop. It was Charlie and Vaggie.

"Here's what you do," Vaggie instructed, taking out a screwed-up tissue, "when it's a pre-recording. The cameras are on you, and by mistake, you mention something you shouldn't. Drop your hankie and bend riiiight down to pick it up. Interrupt yourself, but make it look like an accident! If the footage is awkward, they can't use it for their spiel."

Charlie looked defeated. "Vaggie, you saw the brawl with me and Katie. Vox and his network have no standards. They'd use any footage if it made me look like an idiot."

"Then we'll make time to prepare more answers," Vaggie said, and the two hugged. "Don't worry, hun. That thing with the ducks should keep them away for now."

As Leslie crouched there, wondering what the duck incident was, she saw them share a kiss. Oh, she thought, Oh! Right then, and quietly slipped away to give them privacy. How embarrassing that she hadn't known sooner... but they made a lovely couple.

She retreated to the abandoned room. Leslie wouldn't call it a studio, not until someone took her up on the dance lessons, and there was no mirror on the wall anyway. While she waited for the inevitable crowd of Absolutely Nobody, she flicked through her phone, catching up on the day's events with 666 News. That Katie Killjoy sure was a cutthroat bitch.

Nobody coming, ho-hum.

Then - by the power of legilimency or whatever mind-reading voodoo bullshit Alastor used - he appeared in the corner and slammed his cane against the floor, startling her.

"Oh my God, you're a fucking wraith!" she cried.

"Fine, thanks for asking!"

Leslie sighed. She wasn't angry to see him, not really. "You've got to stop finding me on my own like this," she reprimanded. "But, since you're here, I'd better thank you for getting my phone back. I appreciate it... means I don't have to use the radio anymore."

"You're welcome. You said something about swing?"

Ah. The real crux of the matter.

"Well, it's new-swing music," she clarified. "More electronic than you're used to."

"Aren't you going to show me? I couldn't operate your cellular device, so... you'll have to do it."

Leslie took out her phone. "Finally, something Alastor can't do."

"Alright, young lady."

She actually smiled. He waited as she typed her passcode, shielding the number from him. The phone had TouchID, but of course it didn't work, because her demon form had no fingerprints. Then Leslie opened one of her peppier playlists, knowing which songs were best for the occasion.

"Can Alastor dance?" she teased.

"Not to a professional standard, but yes. Was Leslie going to show me some moves?"

"Pffft. No."

"Ah, but I'm curious now."

"You're not even dressed right for exercising." He was wearing the same old red shirt and dress pants beneath a long-tailed coat. "If this were a real class, I'd kick you out for improper attire."

Alastor's Cheshire-cat grin came all the way up to his eyes. "You can overlook it this time," he said, "since you owe me a favor."

"Fine, I can show you something. I have a routine that's more electro-funk, but we can adapt it. It's going to be kind of a shuffle..." She looked up, and he was studying her, judging already. Leslie steeled herself to be professional and stepped back, performing a few stretches. "Just copy what I'm doing. Loosen up a bit."