this time machine takes quarters

a song of ice and fire + our characters pt. 2

a song of ice and fire + our characters

Send me a # (questions for OCs) or a letter (questions for creators) and I’ll answer

QUESTIONS FOR YOUR OCs

What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

How easy is it for your character to laugh?

How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

How easy is it to earn their trust?

How easy is it to earn their mistrust?

Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable?

What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child

Do they swear? Do they remember their first swear word?

What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?

How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?

What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?

What animal do they fear most?

How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first?

What makes their stomach turn?

Are they easily embarrassed?

What embarrasses them?

What is their favorite number?

If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?

Why do they get up in the morning? 

How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)? 

How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)? 

 Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom? 

 What are their thoughts on marriage? 

 What is their preferred mode of transportation? 

 What causes them to feel dread? 

 Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth? 

 Do they usually live up to their own ideals? 

 Who do they most regret meeting? 

 Who are they the most glad to have met? 

 Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke? 

 Could they be considered lazy? 

 How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt? 

 How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive? 

Do they actively seek romance, or do they wait for it to fall into their lap? 

Do they have a system for remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certain order (like anagrams, putting things to melodies, etc)? 

What memory do they revisit the most often? 

How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people? 

How sensitive are they to their own flaws?

How do they feel about children? 

How badly do they want to reach their end goal? 

If someone asked them to explain their sexuality, how would they do so? 

QUESTIONS FOR CREATORS

But that would mean leaving behind the life he has painstakingly carved out for himself, as hard as it is. Throwing that away felt wrong, and somehow it had managed to all work out. The last box is finally pulled from his truck, and Kevin carefully tilts it up and pushes it toward the house.

Morgan is already inside, placing an order from Doughfellas, and Kevin is still overwhelmed with gratitude at the woman opening up her home to him. Ever since they learned that the other knew about the fact that they lived in a supernatural hotbed and the fallout from the gala, Kevin knew that he needed to tell Morgan about his second job, and he should do it before he got settled.

He leaves the dolly parked just past the entryway of Morgan's house, a place he'd been to countless times before, but it felt different under these circumstances, with all of his things here. Before he could start second-guessing himself again, Kevin pushed through into the kitchen where Saturn was flopped under the table on her belly with a curious Star circling around her and trying to entice her to play.

"Hey, before we do anything, I wanted to um..." He feels tongue-tied, looking at the woman who has never judged him and has opened up her home to him. Kevin should have said something before, but after the Gala and the way the devastation and betrayal on Jude's face has haunted him, he kept making excuses and putting it off until this really was the moment of no return. "You should know I have another job," he blurts out. "Um... meeting with people who um... pay for my... time?"

He hopes that Morgan can read between the lines and quickly launches into an explanation before he can lose his nerve. She already knows about the financial difficulties his family had faced over the past few months and how it has ended up with him on her doorstep. He goes further now, explaining how he had been offered this opportunity and the extra income had helped for a while until his mom had been laid off, but it's still something he plans to do to help support his family from a distance since he can't do anything else.

Is it possible to have a sense of nostalgia for something that never happened? Morgan and Brad never had that moment of building a nursery, or sending a kid off to college. They never did renovations or redecoration, save for when Retrocity was built. But while Kevin's move-in isn't exactly something celebratory, it feels important that she can be there for him. To open her home for him in a way that is different than all the times before.

She doesn't express it here -- again, she takes no pleasure in the why of the necessity -- but it's good to give this home purpose again, too. It's too large for her by half, and even the addition of Star has added some energy, but the cavernous space of a home of over 15 years now only half lived-in has been making her feel smaller and smaller as of late.

And Morgan wishes she could offer more. She wishes she were strong enough for all the moving of a life in boxes. That she could help him so Kevin doesn't overextend himself and have a flare out, perhaps several days of it. There's no rush, and there's a bed in his room upstairs, so they can take as long as they need. But she knows it will take him a lot longer to settle, if he even manages that. So she needs to just take it a step at a time. And pizza never hurt the process.

"They'll be here in about 40 minutes," Morgan says, tucking her phone in her back pocket, quietly trying to get Star to leave Saturn alone for a minute. "Hey. C'mon, rockstar. Chill out." She listens to Kevin's words, stammering and unsteady, and at first she isn't sure what he means. It's no secret between them that Retrocity can't pay as much as he deserves, but the way he says it, that people pay him for his time, isn't meant to be a dig at the arcade's economy.

But then he clarifies. And Morgan's face falls a little -- she tries to hide the shock, swallowing it with sympathy for how difficult she knows it is for Kevin to ask for any sort of help. And the last thing she wants to do is sending him running out (especially not now that she has all of his stuff held hostage in her home).

"Oh... Oh, Kevin," she hums after a moment's pause, "No, no, you're not going anywhere. I... uh... Thank you for telling me, first of all. I c-can't say I understand the choice, or that I... would personally encourage it."

It's so hard to choose her words here -- Morgan's thoughts are going all over the place. But what she knows is that Kevin still shows up for her and for the arcade, even when she can't pay him a living wage. He seems anxious -- not about the work so much as her reaction to it. And her support isn't conditional, she means it when she says that. So the woman tries to push past her own preconceived notions and focus on what's in front of her; a young man she loves very much, as if he were her own. But also, a young man who is his own person, who isn't a child anymore and has a life she isn't always privy to. This doesn't change either of these things she holds to be true.

"But as long as that work doesn't follow you home or to Retrocity, I will accept that that's your choice. Unless I find out that a vampire's compelling you, in which case, I will make some calls. Also, I keep verbena in the pantry, if you need it. Okay?"

Morgan thinks about her own willingness to offer her blood to Laure, thinking maybe it's not exactly the same (she doesn't do it for money, even if there's usually a nice dinner for her troubles), but that maybe there's also no easy answers here. Kevin would never allow her to ask for the vampire's money, and they'd never be able to explain it to Mrs. Ma anyhow. She rubs her chin and sighs a moment, then lifts her eyes to Kevin again.

"I mean it. I'd never kick you out. Especially not after I just ordered enough pizza for several days," she adds with a little bit of humor, hoping it lands. Morgan gingerly extends her arms to him and moves in to give him a hug.

There's a sadness in her heart, that things worked out this way. Not the notion of sex work, which she doesn't think she'll ever really come to understand fully. But she's sad about the way these little griefs and challenges pile up and fundamentally reshape their worlds. Her house is a poor substitute for his family home. She's not his mother and sisters. Bradley wasn't his father. Retrocity isn't enough, perhaps not for anyone but her. There's vampires outside the door and wolves in the woods. They know people who have died, and people who have killed. But right now, they have a roof over their heads, they have each other, and they have pizza coming in less than an hour. Maybe, for now, that could be enough.

"A Lomidze? I may as well die first than to be part of that wretched family." She speaks lowly before the smile is back on her lips, charming, as if the tone on her voice hadn't been mildly threatening seconds before. "I am one of Laure's friends... I care very very much about her and her interests."

Morgan squints for a moment, considering the woman's words. "...no. I mean, in my head, I sort them by 'has tried to kill me' and 'hasn't tried yet'. That's a sort... sort of," she shrugs. Should she be talking so casually to a woman who could still go into either category at this point? Probably not, but where has being meek gotten her?

She admittedly laughs at the idea that being a Lomidze is worse than death. She's met a few of them now -- actually, probably all of them, she just doesn't remember that damned 'sister'. But there was Caska, Viktoria, and the cousin... The mention of Laure relieves her, though. She hopes the connection earns her enough good will to keep all her blood where it belongs tonight.

"I don't mind chatting, no," she says as she starts sorting quarters into the register. "If you want, we can take this to my office. It's not much, but I can at least offer you a seat there?" Then again, she gets the sense this other vampire might not deign to touch her office chairs, as old and worn down as they are.

Where: Retrocity

When: Late August

The owl cocked an ear tuft at her condescendingly as Thera stared into the lights of a sign she had passed hundreds of times but never had reason to go into.

Retrocity

It was famous around Port Leiry and for all the times Thera had meant to poke her head in there, she had just never quite had the chance.

But staring into the knowing yellow eyes of the creature above her, now. The time was now. Thera had spent a large chunk of her life around birds. They were often more constant companions than people but there was a certain eeriness to a predator the size of this Great-Horned Owl slashing the tips of its feathers against your cheek mid-flight and then stopping on a lamp post just ahead. And then moving to the next as you followed. And then the next. And then the next. Until you ended up here.

Morgan loves supporting the small and weird parts of Port Leiry -- hell, Retrocity is very much of that age and style of keeping things by the people, of the people, for the people. She loves the vibrancy of the art scene in this town and how it manifests in unconventional places.

But she draws the line at someone slapping a sticker of a screaming possum with a URL to someone's Soundcloud on one of the arcade cabinets.

She's slowly working at it with the gum scraper and some Windex, desperately trying not to damage the cabinet art, when a woman approaches her and she leaves the offending adhesive somewhat peeled up for the time being. Morgan tries to figure out what a Striggy Forum is -- is that like a Yelp review? Will it make her sound old or out of touch if she asks? Thankfully, the knows Altered Beast. But the answer isn't as helpful as she hopes to be.

"Oh, gosh," Morgan frets, "We do technically have it, yeah, but it's not out on the floor right now. It... uh, broke... back in December, and it's almost all repaired but the replacement bezel is backordered and we're still trying to fix the speakers without having to get an entirely new unit."

Her finger tip wobbles the gacha toy back and forth.

"I suppose Lana compelled you. That's quite alright. No, I didn't torture you. Our youngest - Caska, yes - was in a box when you were in the basement."

She hums and laughs at the idea of this thing being protected, as if she were here to do much of anything other than to check in. "You're puffing up like one of those little fishes." She slides closer, leans in, as if studying her, "Do you have poison little spines, too?" She raises a finger to poke at her shoulder - but stops short before doing so.

"It's a good time because it's just the two of us, no? Your vampire owner, I'm sure, will do much to protect you like I would do for my own human. Your assumption that I'm here to harm you says more about you than it does me." She circles around to the other side of Morgan, plucking one of the plushies from the now open box and squeezes it gently. Cute.

She sets it up next to her toy, posing it so it cradles the thing. "I told you before, I did not approve of what the eldest Lomidze did to you, nor my cousin's antics. Caska loves this place. I do, as well. You, my friend, seem keen to judge a book by its cover." She straightens up, motioning with her hands. "Old does not equal ruthless. Crazy, perhaps, but I have my own little pet to play with if the urge strikes - why would I make the trek to another clan's territory to menace an aging human? Silly assumption. I simply want to know how you are, Mrs. Moss."

Morgan listens to the Lomidze's words and nods slowly. "Yes, I've... met Caska," she says, wondering how much the other sisters know about that interaction that admittedly got off on the wrong foot. "And, you'll have to forgive me, I don't remember your name. Lana must have compelled me. Something Laure hasn't even been able to undo, which I assume means your sister is more powerful."

And older, she assumes, but she doesn't say that. Not that any of these women exactly look (or act) their age.

"Everything that happened is so fuzzy... and I've noticed this strange new problem I have when it comes to ingesting Laure's blood," she notes somewhat casually as she grabs the box of plushes and pulls the key lanyard for unlocking the claw machines off her hip. "Guess I'll take you at your word about the torture thing, though."

Still, Morgan flinches a bit instinctively as the woman makes a move towards her shoulder -- the same as was injured along with her wrist. She purses her lips, frowns a little, and finds some humor to deflect with. "Y'know, humans in their mid-40s don't like being told they look puffy, thank you."

She quickly buries her head in the pile of stuffed animals, stocking and arranging and fluffing them, rotating some of the older toys to the top, doing anything it takes not to choke at the suggestion that Laure is her owner. Morgan doesn't even really have the strength to get into that argument, even if it's not remotely true in the first place. And she wants to ask about the other human, but she's not sure if it's appropriate to do so.

My assumption is based on the fact that 75% of the vampires who show up here do harm me, thank you, she mouths silently, knowing that even a smarmy whisper is enough for this woman's hearing. A sigh follows a deep inhale, like when her dog Star decides it's really tough to be a dog.

"Another clan's territory?" Morgan furrows her brows, unsure of what to make of the statement. She also tries to ignore the 'aging' comment with grace. She pulls her head out of the glass case and turns around to see the toy the vampire has taken, and she decides to leave it be. The small woman brushes her hands on the front of her pants, unsure if this woman wants the real answer. Hell, she's not even sure if she knows the real answer -- it's so rare she sits down and truly tries to examine her feelings. "I'm... I don't know. I'm tired. This last year aged me by at least five, and I feel increasingly helpless as my loved ones get all tangled up in the spider web of danger here in Port Leiry... I mean, but, like, today was a nice enough day. Can't really complain there. So I guess I could be worse."

This wasn't the type of places Narcisse ever frequented, she can't even remember ever being in a place like this before, and as the lights change around her, shining in bright vibrant colors, the noises of the different game machines reaching her ears loudly, she becomes awfully aware of why. There's nothing in this place that she could appreciate and deem interesting, at least none of the games she passes as she walks further into the place.

She looks out of place, dressed as impeccably as always, her golden hair in a carefree updo that frames her face perfectly and her deep blue eyes sparkling with mischief and curiosity as they fall onto the one person she's here to see. She can't understand just yet Laure's fascination with this human, but she isn't surprised by it, not after the way she had been so enthralled by Kiri. Laure seems to see something in these humans that Narcisse doesn't care to look for.

There are so many sights and sounds in Retrocity; it's hard to focus on them all. But Morgan has her methods. She's good at keeping her eyes on the rows of cabinets, scanning through the small throngs of players, making sure that everyone is being respectful and having fun. No kicked games, no spilled sodas. The arcade really comes to life at night -- unfortunately so does an entire other part of Port Leiry.

There was a long time that she didn't want to acknowledge the patterns, but now Morgan has to face the facts. Not that lonely women can't have plenty of interesting reasons to walk into an arcade overdressed, but she's started to notice a pattern. Late at night, childless, impeccably dressed, headed right for the counter to find the proprietor of the pop culture paradise. That's a recipe for trouble. Trouble with a capital V. She's spotted the woman, but stays focused on emptying the coin hoppers on a cabinet no one's playing with.

"Hi, hey," Morgan says, singsongy sweet, turning her head as the blonde stranger swans up to her. She stands, the coins clinking and shuffling around in the basket. The human laughs, not sure how these next words are going to come out, but she says them anyways. "I'm so sorry, forgive me if this is forward -- but I'm going to go ahead and guess you're a vampire of some sort? Not to speak badly of my own clientele, but women this well-dressed don't walk into arcades this late at night for a round of Street Fighter."

Laure steps out of the car and begins to walk towards the steps of Morgan's house. George pulls away to occupy his time until she needs to be picked up and then it is just her, looking like she made a wrong turn somewhere.

A movie night. It is a terribly mundane thing, yet Laure doesn't find herself minding it like she might normally. Films were another form of art that she could appreciate, though she is certain that she and Morgan might have different tastes in these things. After all, that had been the impetus for this evening in the first place. A blank stare after one of the many references that Laure often failed to grasp, only this one seemed to personally offend the human, and the only thing that would satisfy her was a private screening of what she deemed, 'the classics'.

So Laure walks up to the front door and knocks. She can hear the whine of a puppy inside and the sound of it almost crashing into the door, and a second later, it swings open to reveal Morgan with an armful of dog. Upon looking at both of them staring at her with enormous eyes, she laughs. "I see dogs really do take after their owners," she chuckles. She doesn't reach out to pet Star, the dog is clearly anxious about her so she focuses back on Morgan instead.

Her smile only broadens as the human grandiosely invites her into her home and she steps over the threshold slowly, whatever invisible barrier that had been in place before Morgan spoke now gone. Magic truly was something.

"Thank you for the warm welcome. What a gracious hostess," she smirks as she steps fully into the foyer and shuts the door behind her. Star growls nervously as the vampire steps into her domain and Laure stifles her smile as she remembers Morgan showing up at her door nearly a year ago, bristling with fury because of Kiri's reappearance. "At least one of you has a sense of preservation," she tells Morgan teasingly before carefully bending over to offer her hand to the dog. Star sniffs at her warily, and can't seem to decide whether to be nervous or ask this strange new hand for pets. Laure offers the latter.

Morgan laughs, not quite sure what to make of Laure's comment about the dog. But it isn't said with any malice she can detect. Being compared to an adorable, if nervous, little puppy isn't the worst thing that could happen, right? She smiles as the vampire steps over the threshold, quietly marveling at the magic that keeps them on the doorstep until otherwise invited. How odd.

"Ah, I picked up a few things after all the swanky parties you've taken me to," she says, flicking her wrist playfully. Morgan turns her attention back to Star and gives her a soft, "hey, be nice," as the pup assesses their guest. So far, she's been mostly well-behaved with strangers, including the occasional vampire and werewolf. The latter, she seems to warm up to more quickly. But Star is loving, and if Morgan is happy, then she is happy. And the dog seems amenable to the idea of being petted, no matter whose hand it is. "She'll calm down soon. She's so used to it being just the two of us."

When Laure remarks on the home, Morgan blushes a little. She's just saying that, she's sure -- Morgan's seen what beautiful means to the other woman. What constitutes a home. There's dust in places she can't reach, relics of her husband still on the walls and in boxes under furniture. Home these days is the arcade, it's with her friends and family. Anywhere she doesn't have to lay her head down and swim in all the blankets there never seemed to be enough of when there were two of them. "Thanks," is all she manages before the talk mercifully turns to movies. She can do that, Morgan knows movies.

"I think we rip the Band-Aid off and start with The Lost Boys, how's that sound? It's, um... a little dated, maybe. But I think it holds up," she says, feeling self-conscious now. Even if, at the worst, it's only going to waste an hour and a half of Laure's considerably long life.

---

Morgan could quote the movie with her eyes closed. Once they settle on the couch, the human spends part of the time watching Laure as she watches the movie. She resists the urge to talk through the whole thing, but she does have to give some important context. Including how hot she thought the whole motorcycle thing was when she was a teen.

"So, Santa Carla doesn't technically exist -- that's all Santa Cruz. But it really was known for being the murder capital of the world. And Brad and his older brother apparently snuck onto the boardwalk during one of the nights of filming. He swears he's in this scene somewhere."

"I... don't really have a good explanation for the saxophone man. But the director, Joel Schumacher, is gay, so..."

"My own brother, a damn, blood-sucking vampire. You wait 'till mom finds out, buddy!"

"This is the first time anyone ever used the phrase 'vamp out' for, y'know, the whole fangs and face thing. Buffy borrowed it from them. Hell, Buffy borrowed so much from this movie."

By the time Nanook tries to attack Michael, Morgan's finally relaxed into the couch, mindfully munching on popcorn and occasionally giving Star a small piece as well. She offers the bowl to Laure too, not wanting to assume or be a bad hostess. Morgan even laughs at the same explosive, electric finale that she's seen a hundred times over, as vampires bleed glitter-tinted blood and the family ends up safe but sticky from their brush with the Lost Boys.

Moss has keys to the self-given chains, and he hadn't even noticed. He steps forward on instinct, arm out to try and placate her to listen: "I know—" but it's a broken attempt at speaking between her jagged breaths. She's dragging him in the same mud every vampire gets caked in. He hates it, but she's right. He's no different to the next beast that wants to walk into her nostalgic sanctuary.

It's not worth explaining that he really had seen Brad in the dark of his torture.

Neither of them want that. Don't repeat what I said to you —

It's a grim threat of a thing. But her understanding of the situation isn't entirely inaccurate. Yes. We snap. Reid had snapped and it reaped a vile result.

He can't speak for those multiple times; he'd have wanted to have helped, he's sure. Before. But he'd also been monstrous before. Fuck he doesn't know how to fix this. He'd come with a plan to explain, and she's spitting at him with that assertion he didn't know Morgan had ever been capable of.

"That's exactly what happened, Moss." a beat, before Reid realises he's barked it back at her without the softness he'd intended. She's goading him, and he's lapping it up like a starved wildebeest. She's not stupid — he'd thought that once, when he'd found our from Boughton she was associating with Stephens, but he doesn't know what to think about the arcade owner now. He just knows he wronged her. "I wasn't playing games — this isn't about you—" Now he's coming off wrong —

Reid pauses, dragging a hand through his hair and straightens out his agitations. He'd come here calmly, without intent to harm. He's not that when he doesn't need to be. Instead, he starts at the beginning: "I was lying when we met, and at the cemetery — I omitted that I was... you know, David-like —" Don't make this funny; humour isn't a rescue. "— but I wasn't fucking with you then. That was me. I wasn't being friendly because I intended to mess with you."

Better? It's not coming out like he wants it to, but it's all he's got. Reid's never been good at apologies, or admitting his wrongdoings so plainly. "Something happened to me — and I dealt with it... badly." He won't confess it, even if Morgan asks. She'll have to live without the graphic details. "But you didn't deserve to see what I became." He doesn't know how much she knows. It's a stupid suggestion, but apparently he's no better than the legends of old: "You uh, still hang around Stephens? You can ask her, if you don't believe we can sort of... flip like that."

And maybe, out of spite, Stephens would lie to Moss about it, and he'll never get to know peace with this shattered friendship.

Reid's laugh is suddenly dry, because he knows what this sounds like. He finds himself a shadowy spot on the opposite alley wall again; the distance is supposed to be an assurance. He folds his arms, same as she does:. "I'm aware it sounds mental, Morgan. And I don't know what other shit has happened to you, but I never meant for you to find out I was a monster the way you did. That's why I'm here." If anything, he'd hoped she never would find out.

Morgan wants so badly to go back to the past. The time when things were simpler. When they were standing in a graveyard and she mostly believed that the dead were only beneath their feet. But she knows how useless it is to yearn for what's gone. It's not coming back -- not the dead, not the innocence, not the ignorance.

But it doesn't mean she wants to raze the future and tear it down to make everything feel even. Morgan is trying to pick up the pieces and put them in a familiar shape without cutting her finger on the exposed edges.

There's a little worm of satisfaction over the fact that her sudden spine throws off Reid's response. Anger begets anger, though, and Morgan doesn't have infinite reserves of it. She's bristling still, but willing to give him a chance (that damn chance) while she tries to temper her own pulse.

"This isn't about you--"

It never is, is it? Every vampire who has menaced her barely even acknowledged her, in the end. She's so far beneath them, she's a grain of sand in their boot tread. A mayfly beating its wings against an ancient oak tree. Even the young ones -- they know they'll outlive her. She just never imagined so many would try to help her along to the grave.

"And Bub? Were you dead then too?" It's a harsh question, maybe, but she needs to know. She needs to know if she has to update her memories, rewrite the past with an asterisk and a reminder that life has never been the way she imagined it to be. Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, and third time's the charm -- she'd said something to that effect to Autumn at the gala. Morgan isn't going to ask him what happened. She doubts he'll be that forthcoming with her, given what she's asked for here.

"As for Laure," she sniffs, recognizing that the compulsion hasn't chained her tongue because he knows too, "Yeah. Yes, I'm still involved with her, and in fact, she's one of the only vampires who has been completely consistent with me from the start. That doesn't mean she's a saint, but... you, Aria, Eleanor, Kiri. The Lomidzes running hot and cold. Flipping switches, turning your... your humanity off. I just... I don't get it."

Morgan leans against the alley wall and sighs, running a hand down her face. "So, are you here because you're sorry it happened or you're sorry you left a witness?"

He nods -- he knows. The human smell on Morgan is easy and recognizable after being around all sorts. Vampires smell a little like rot, witches smell a little like perfume, and humans just smell.. normal. A little sweat, a little salt, a little of whatever they're wearing that day. Nothing too bad one way or the other. But hearing it confirmed is nice - a relief, even.

People plus almost makes him laugh, too. He doesn't even know if he's able to laugh right now, but the thought of it is nice.

"Oh, wow. No, don't apologize," she says, shaking her head. "It, uh... took Autumn a while to tell me. About her whole thing. I completely understand why."

And as far as she knows, she hasn't been menaced by Jude as a wolf. Morgan hasn't really had many encounters with wolves aside from Autumn being delivered right to her doorstep. But looking at him, it kind of makes sense. Is that weird, or offensive, of her to say? At the least, he doesn't read 'vampire' to her.

Not that she's been the keenest eye on figuring out who in her life was secretly undead.

Does Morgan owe him an explanation about her own involvement? It's not exactly as though she can be fully honest, given Laure's parameters on her compulsion (as often as she forgets it's there). But, at the least, it's good to be honest when people are bound to talk and make up their own stories.

"I've... uh, involved is a word for it. I've been involved with a vampire sort of recently," Morgan admits, handwaving a need for deeper explanation. "Also doing some work for the Mayor... trying to figure out ways that us humans can..."

Be better prey?