MOVED TO DIVIINITATIS

Kay considered what he was saying, his lips pressed into a thin line as he continued peeling. No, he honestly hated the sound of either. Something growing and dropping off him as another full…person? Sounded really fucked up. Still, he supposed Alexander had a point, at least you didn’t have to have anything to do with it after that point? Maybe?

A smirk tugged slightly at the corner of his mouth. “I dunno, I guess so…” It’s not like he’d know about either anyway, it was a very uninformed opinion on his part. He finished peeling and washed the potatoes again and cleaned up the area he’d been using.

“Never met a zombie before?” he teased, but he didn’t mean it, he hadn’t either. “Sure, how much do you want?” Was it funny that blood and living dead skeeved him out far less than the previous topic? He grabbed a knife and set it down next to the cutting board with the potatoes before moving to get a glass. The shifter liked to keep busy and Alexander seemed to know how to keep him moving.

I don’t know either, Alexander shrugs. It’s not like I have a basis for comparison. But it’s quite the thought.  Isn’t it wonderful, the diversity in this world? Apparently, new vampires are made by the transmission of a virus that is present only in our saliva and, get this, must be sent right into the bloodstream. The second part is more for Kay’s benefit. Alexander can’t have him worrying about accidentally turning into a vampire after a particularly intense make out session.

Anywhere else, he continues, and it can’t survive. According to Victor, anyway. But he’s everyone’s doctor, so I suppose he knows what he’s talking about. There’s some more complexity to all that, but Alexander doesn’t remember. He concerns himself with bodies purely on business and pleasure standpoints. How’s that for reproduction?

Grey eyes shifted to the side to watch the smaller blonde with thinned lips. “You’re about to receive my touch if you aren’t careful, my dear.” Gemina said with a quick snatch to his cane, gripping it tightly in her fist before shoving it back towards him with a bitter smile. He’d touched on the one frustration that she couldn’t seem to get over; her inability to make up for her failures. 

Cass was unfazed by Alexander calling him “young man” even though they looked to be the same age. He was more concerned by the fact that Alexander noticed his high adrenaline levels (though surely the “I could hear your heart pounding” statement was an exaggeration, but still!). Actually, maybe Cass was just all too thrilled that Alexander Reed was noticing him at all. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face even as he fiddled with the insider fabric of his pocket.

“Alright– Alexander. People call me Cass. Sorry I’m so fidgety– I just– woah.” Professionalism? Out the window, and it wasn’t even Cristina’s fault. That would be a lie at this point. “I can– I can show it to you now! It’s right in… One sec…” He unshouldered his backpack and began scavenging for his lyric notebook inside it. His guitar case was perched against the wall behind him, and his violin case rested by his feet. He had some music sheets figured out, too, but that would come after the lyrics. “There is it! I had an idea for three stages of the movie because I only got an overview and they said they’d email me more relevant script details over the weekend. But I have this song for the exposition, this one for the crisis, and this one for the end–” He pointed to the titles in question, guiding Alexander through the mess that was his handwriting. Damn; he shoudl have made it more presentable.

Alexander steps around to stand by Casper’s side, peeking politely over his shoulder as he flips through the notebook. He glimpses some interesting lines here and there, but he won’t ask about them, and pretends he didn’t see anything. He straightens when Casper finds the page he was looking for. Wonderful. He smiles his thanks when Casper hands him the notebook, but waits to read it.

He nodded a bit, accepting the apology without further comment. He’d overstepped bounds first, it was really how own fault if he got hurt.

“Sure,” he smiled a bit and stepped a bit closer to him, not close enough to touch or anything, but back into a more socially acceptable distance for chatting. He also put his hands in his pockets both as a reminder to keep his hands to himself and hopefully so he wouldn’t squick Alexander out.

“Yeah, I’d come visit you,” he smiled a bit more.

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“Hey.” Willow’s good at opening – but not openers. Which means, of course, she’s good at being the one to approach a stranger and start speaking – but not the best at knowing where or how to, uh, start. “Or, uh! Hello. Hiya. What’s the– d’you know what’s the most, like, good to say? I don’t. But hi! Are you, uh… okay?” Not that she could really help if he weren’t. “You don’t look – I mean, well – uh – just – yeah, that. Are you okay?” 

“…Huh…” was all he managed for a few moments, his brows furrowing as he turned his gaze to his current task of peeling potatoes while he listened to Alexander chatter, considering his questions.

“Sounds gross,” he snorted with a laugh. “Like, childbirth seems pretty gross but just…plopping out another…thing seems worse somehow.”

“Don’t they like…eat corpses…?” Was he remembering that right? “Isn’t that what makes it a ghoul? I feel like they’re lumped with vampires and zombies a lot but maybe that’s why? The blood thing and the…flesh eating thing but I don’t think they’re the same as either.”

I can confirm childbirth was horrid. The words are accompanied by a knowing smile as he pushes the sides of the rack into the pan and washes his hands. I can’t imagine that budding is painful, though. A little uncomfortable, I’m sure, especially as it gets bigger and sort of-- he pushes himself onto one foot, tipping his body to an almost precarious point before catching his balance again--topples you over, but then that’s over! You can move on.

He drops the rag he’s using to dry his hands, turns the oven, and then hoists himself to sit on the counter with a little hop, twisting around to face Kay and letting his legs dangle to wait for the oven to preheat.

A happy little smile touched his lips and he turned to follow Alexander into the kitchen, going to the drawer that he had indicated, then the one next to it to pull out the peeler. He was pretty close, at least he didn’t have to go hunting for it.

He pulled out a few potatoes to start rinsing them off as Alexander asked him about ghouls. “Uh…I’ve never met one before, so no thoughts…Other than I thought they were zombies-so wait, they’re not? How are they made then?”

Apparently they sort of spawn when they get too big. Like plants! When they bud off the parent . . . I mean, that’s what he said. But I can’t picture that. They’d have to be gooey, I think, for another ghoul to just . . . he cups his shoulder and makes the gesture of something growing out of it. But he was solid-- you know, maybe he wasn’t a ghoul at all. Never mind. I wonder how ghouls are classified. Any thoughts on that? What makes a ghoul?

The shifter released him without a fuss, tucking his thumbs in his pockets. “I’ll believe that when I see it, he’s only got eyes for you,” he chuckled softly, glancing over at Napoleon as well before turning his attention back to Alexander.

“Sounds delicious.” The both of them could put away quite a bit of food. “Just tell me what you want me to do.” Kay didn’t have a chefy bone in his body, but took orders just fine.

His brows lifted as if surprised. “Well, that’s high praise. I guess I’m a keeper, huh?” he joked, turning his head to press his lips gently to Alexander’s temple. He was pretty pleased with himself for making him laugh. Kay was a little insecure. Not specifically in response to Alexander, or anything he’d done, just sometimes he required a little patience and reassurance himself.