#crow scribblings

He says more to himself than anything else. If Natasha hears him, she doesn't react. She hums to herself, a somber, sour scowl plastered over her features. She was clearly caught in her own head, somewhere else. Suddenly her hand extends, fingers splayed over the dashboard, turning down the volume as the lyrics die down considerably and the bass grinds to a screeching halt. As the volume goes down, the pumping sensation of the car dissipates. "Murder, murder, in my mind" slithers into her ears one last time as she turns it off completely. Not because she didn't like the hard EDM and the sensation it brought with it, far from it, but she had words caught somewhere in her throat begging to be heard.

"Y'know..."

She fumbles out, rolling and clicking her tongue. The right words were a commodity hard to come by, and at first she wasn't finding them. She side-eyed Brett who was coldly observing her hand leave the dashboard.

"I don't know about Soviet Russia."

Natasha glowered at the tasteless and very quite rude joke. Oh how she wanted to punch him.

"But here in the States it's considered rude to touch the tunes. Unless you're the one driving the car."

"Tch!!"

She hisses at him, opting to roll her eyes, biting her tongue so as not to let out her indignated venom. She had a favour to ask.

"I'm starving."

She furrows her brows, looking defiantly at Brett. What an absolute asshole. Brett eyes her a bit and she can't tell exactly what's going on in that pretty little head of his.

"Yeah, you do look a bit parched."

Was that... Concern, on his face?

"No luck finding any live ones at the docks?"

Thankfully he adjusts the speed of the conversation and puts more attention on her. Honestly she wasn't sure if she appreciated that or not, considering what she was about to ask. She shrank in her seat.

"I don't..."

She gestures vaguely.

"Y'know."

An even more vague gesture goes through her whole body. She was uncomfortably aware of the seatbelt holding her in place.

"Feed on people?"

Eyes wild and feeling cornered, afraid, she does a 'go on' motion as Brett starts to speak.

"You don't feed on..."

He sits still, staring out at the empty road ahead.

"Wait."

He winces.

"Are you a fucking rat sucker?"

The second half of the sentence comes out as a harsh, almost mocking laugh.

"I should have guessed with you Gangrels -- mostly animal tendencies."

He shrugs.

"So why not?"

"What?"

Natasha recoils in horror.

"What?! No!"

She makes a very clear gesture of disgust.

"That's fucking disgusting! Why would you ask me that?!"

No more shrinking in on herself, she's more or less taking genuine offence to that statement.

"I mean. What else would you feed on if not people?"

He looks puzzled for a moment.

"Unless... You don't honestly consider some kine to be less than others, right?"

Natasha could feel her spine curl up and cringe.

"This country is a diverse melting-pot and you need to be able to accept them for what they are."

Oh god, he wasn't seriously lecturing her on racism, was he?

"Lesser beings, sure, but that is because we..."

He gestures vaguely with one hand off the wheel.

"We Kindred are different."

Natasha punches his shoulder. This upper-class white guy lecturing her, an immigrant Sociology major, on racism?

"Are you seriously that dense."

It comes off as more of a statement than an actual question.

"I'm asking you a favour."

Her smile is more of a wince than a smile at this point.

"A huge favour."

Brett blinks at her with a non-plussed expression.

"You..."

Silence.

"Oh."

More silence.

"OH!"

For a split second he almost looses control of the car and decide to pull over before turning to her fully. His expression turns into a weird mix of sheer disbellief and curiousity.

"You willingly feed on... us?"

Hands held out in a mock 'Surprise!', her face betrays a far too casual demeanor.

"When you put it like that..."

Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose with an irritated huff.

"Yes."

She nods, eyes closed and still pinchingher face.

"I need you help. Again."

Face cold, Brett looks at her incredulously.

"I thought that was a habit my Sire tried to force on me. It took years before I understood that was how she managed to stay in my head, controlling me, binding my by her Blood."

A heavy silence crushed down on her chest, heart sinking until Brett spoke up again.

"I don't know if I want to put you through that."

Silence reigned as he drove a hand through his hair.

"Or if I can controll what's going on."

The two of them sink into a somber, uncomfrotable silence. Brett doesn't look at her, his gaze fixated on the dashboard.

"Are you sure you trust me anough to risk that happening to you?"

Natasha is quiet for a moment.

"You promised not to..."

She drives a hand absentmindedly through her hair, mirroring Bretts previous motion, not daring to look him in the eye.

"To not, whatever you called it, yeah?"

Now she turns to look him dead in the eyes, driving her point home.

"I'm trusting you right now by even telling you, no?"

She leans back folding her arms over her chest protectively.

"It's not that-"

Once again she's fumbling for words.

"I won't... Hurt you. Or Anything."

Side-eyeing the window she spots a lonely car rushing by, leaving them in a weird kind of silence. Brett hesitates. Another moment passes before he lets go of the wheel.

"The Ones you joined have strict rules against what you are about to do."

He rolls up his sleeve.

"You will owe me for this. And I will keep it a secret for as long as you are of use to me."

With a slightly extended thumbnail he cuts open his wrist.

"I will endeavour not to bind you."

An easy smile disappears as quickly as it appeared on his face.

"Never done this before."

As Natasha looks down at his arm, she hears a strangled noise in the back of his throat. Was that a laugh?

"Thank you."

She murmurs and leans down to drink. She can feel his head numbing at her kiss as he clearly struggles for control.

"Is this how Smythe felt?"

It was barely a whisper on his lips. If he could just add a bit more of his vitae and... No. Not that. He had promised not to. The moments pass in a haze of emotions and numbness as one, but is abruptly cut short as Natasha suddenly pulls back, slurring out her next words through bloodied lips and half lidded eyes.

"Did I hurt you?"

She asks in earnest, looking him over once, face marred by deep worry and the uncomfortable silence between them. Brett is looking down at the red river leaving his wrist before lifting it up to lick it closed. His unfocused gaze is firmly set on his wrist as his arm lowers slowly.

"It was. Weird."

He shuffles to get a better look at her through his stupor.

"No, it didn't hurt per-se, but I do feel lightheaded. And hungry. Like I did before feeding this evening."

The silence was less hostile now and as he turns to her fully, he looked almost sincere.

"How about you? Are you thoughts still your own?"

She clears her throat, wiping her mouth on her jacket sleeve.

"I think so?"

Natasha looks herself over with a nod, nod.

"Thank you."

She clears her throat and awkwardly motions to the cars stereo.

"I'm glad you weren't..."

She cuts herself off, eyes darting to his face, then his wrist, then back out over the dashboard into the night.

"Nevermind. Just. Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

A soft moment passes between them.

"Like ever. Honestly we need to keep this behind locked doors."

And the moment is gone.

"If the Sheriff finds out there are going to be uncomfortable questions."

Brett starts the car again.

"Lucky for us we are going to see someone who owes me some cash."

He shoots her a winning smile.

"So I'll be back up to standard soon enough."

He turns up the music, a new fresh track of hard EDM blasts to life.