or did i make you fucking dance?

As much as I’d sure love to help you out, I’m kinda havin’ a mid-existence crisis over here? A life crisis? I feel like I can’t breathe, I- Am I breathing? 

To be clear, I’m staring at your breasts so I can confirm that you are, in fact, breathing. ... Annnd now I’m staring at them because I just now remembered that human men have always had consciences and yet they still feel they shouldn’t be held accountable for their sleaziness, so might as well go with the flow.

Yeah, no. That sounds incredibly suspect, and since I’m so not in the mood to get murdered today, especially given the fact that my arms literally feel like spaghetti.

Welp, luckily for you, I am not in the mood to murder today. And you know what? Not a good feeling. All of this... conscience.

Sweetie, you know that if or when I was going to respond to that, it would have had much more flare. I couldn’t very well compel some up and coming Broadway superstar to write and perform a show, invite you to it, and then afterwards let you know if I was… Ugh, human.

Thank you. I can be very distracting but I wouldn’t want to hurt you. At least not right now. Yes, that’s what I’m saying unfortunately yet unsurprisingly. Well… Do you want the cliff notes version?

You would’ve gotten Lin Manuel Miranda though, right? Like, I know this love-hate relationship is especially fun during the latter part, but you’ve got at least that much respect for me, right?

guilt for abandoning his family

fear and anxiety about getting old

remorse for killing one or twelve people here and there

loneliness because he has zero (0) true friends because he’s a scumbag 

curiosity about what his family is doing now

regret over some particularly gross things he’s done

Wow. That is…I don’t think I’ve ever been asked to check out someone’s facial hair. Quite a pick up line, to be honest. I’m flattered, I think?

Nooooooooooooooooooo, ha, no, um-- {coughs, puts a healthy and respectable distance between them} I mean -- shit, sorry -- Not to say you’re not a... fine young lady... it’s just, you know, I’m, um. Old enough to be your dad. May even be your dad, now that I think about it.

...Fuck, I could be so many peoples’ dad...

This sounds like something that will lead Lester Holt to telling the audience of Dateline that I could have lived to see the morning had I just not walked closer to the strange man to inspect his face.

I... am offended. Wow. I’ve not felt that in a while. I would like for the feeling to be cancelled forever again.

Sh- Sh, I’m trying to order a pizza. The app doesn’t make any sense and I’m- Yes, with extra cheese. Alright, thanks a bunch.

What were you saying? Did… Did you finally grow a beard or is that just the shade? The sun is out of control, BTW.

Jordan, no, you beautiful potato, we can’t have pizza. Do you understand what just happened? Just now? I’m-- and you’re--

I see you’re having a day. Yes, yes very impressive. You can pass on a rash to any part of the body now, brava. Can we get back to me now? Thank you.

Look at my nail-beds! You can’t do anything in- in this state without something breaking, I swear. My Jimmy Choos are in serious danger every moment I’m on my feet. [ She sighs ever dramatically. ] Quick Chadwick, you’ll have to carry me.

Wait, so you’re not the one that took away my magic and non-aging? ‘Cause here I was thinking that this was your way of answering my dinner invite. Is that a ‘yes’, then?

What do you want? I- What?

Yeah, that’s facial hair. You want a black eye to go with it too? That’d be the authentic human experience, Chad.

{gasps and thrusts his hand at her, looking oh so shooked when no spell comes out} You... You take that back. I am not a human.

Well, it’s not the blood of your enemies at least.

But yeah, man. That would be facial hair. It is a brave new word… Are you finally going through puberty at like, sixty-two years old? It’s a good look, you should keep it. I like it. Try and not kill anyone with it and it’ll almost shape up to be a pretty decent day with you in it.

I-- Calculator. I need a calculator. What year is it again?

This is no laughing matter, David! There is an infinitesimally small window between immortal hunk, dad bod, and then middle-aged man that makes all women in a five-mile radius uncomfortable. We need to get to a spa or a Bath and Body Works stat.

Just because Chad usually dealt with the lowest of the low, it didn’t mean that he had to live like them. In fact, he usually goes for the most extravagant. Tailored suits, fast cars, mini mansions, no less than three Victoria’s Secret models in his contacts just in case he needed to show up to an event that required a date... Modesty had never been his forte. He figures that he kind of deserves it, what with the amount of death threats (not that he’s complaining, it’s just another part of his job) he deals with every day.

Although he could probably come up with a spell that translated every language into something he could comprehend, he actually took the time to learn Spanish, Latin, and Italian.

There are only three material things in this world that Chad actually cares for. The first is his spellbook. It’s old and ratty and so doesn’t match with his Givenchy, but it also contains everything he knows about magic -- Dark or otherwise. Second is his journal. In that contains everything he knows about the supernatural. From his hypothesis on what vampire blood is made of, to lunar charts and sketches of a Shifter’s anatomy, he’s got notes about it all. The third is his iPad. With contacts, deals, jobs, and booty calls coming from all over, he’s got to have a place to store and organize them.

The King family had had a reputation for being gifted in protection. Both his parents and two siblings had been adamant in their contentment with the field. Chad had shrugged at them and said ‘whatever, more for me’.