#bdrprobbie

@chains-of-blood

What had happened on Friday was unacceptable. Inexcusable.

Preventable?

See, that was what Simba didn’t know. And that was what he hated about vampires. Yes, hated. There weren’t many things that Simba flat out hated, but he didn’t know what else to call the stone in his chest where the thought of vampires coincided. Perhaps it was just fear. That was where most hate was bred anyway, wasn’t it? From fear? 

And, look: Simba didn’t like the fact that he hated vampires. He knew it was hypocritical and against everything his family had been fighting against for the last hundred years. 

It was also very hard to unlearn prejudices. Especially prejudices that were learned for very good reasons (in Simba’s mind, anyway.) From Kiara, almost dying, to Nala’s attack, to what had just happened last week. Vampires were dangerous and unpredictable. 

Or--they had the potential to be.

Simba knew it was unfair to lump together every single vampire on the face of the earth. Even before Robbie, Simba had known this. It was harder, though, to make sweeping generalizations with Robbie in his mind. Robbie, who sat quietly in class and took notes and didn’t answer every question even though he was a million years old (probably) and (probably) could. 

All things considered--Robbie was rather boring. At least, as far as Simba knew.

The thing was: Simba knew something needed to be done. The Board would come under fire (again), if it wasn’t addressed. And, more than that, Simba really did just want to keep their community safe. So, despite his own moral quandaries about the matter (or, perhaps, because of them), he had emailed Robbie, finding his number on the PrideU website.

It felt weird, as his previous teacher, to be crossing this boundary. But, he just had to remind himself that, technically, Robbie had seniority and the power balance felt...somewhat more even.

Simba tapped his foot against the rung of the bar stool he was sitting on in Pixie’s. Perhaps not the most professional atmosphere, but it was loud and people were less likely to pay them any mind. Not to mention, he wasn’t about to invite a vampire into his house (no offense, Robbie) or go to said vampire’s house (again, no offense, Robbie.) Also, he was going to need a drink for this. (Probably a bad thought for an alcoholic but--it had been a week.)

So, he was in the middle of spinning his whiskey tumbler around when he noticed someone out of the corner of his eye. 

“Hey, Robbie,” he said, turning to give him a smile. “Uh, thanks for meeting with me. I appreciate it. You--want a drink before we get started?”