#slayalive

“I’m sorry. I know it’s none of my business and she can fight her own battles but if you think I’m just gonna hand over the scythe...”

             "Come on, Summers. Wakefield’s only two blocks off. Don’t tell me you’re gettin’ tired?”

HIS   EXPRESSION   SPEAKS   ON   HIS   BEHALF.   A   sullen,   angry   hybrid   now   moved   by   such   a   simple   request   from   a   woman   he   hardly   knows.   His   eyes   stay   locked   on   hers,   as   though   daring   her   to   look   away,   "You   would   trust   me   with   something   so   precious?"   reaching   out   to   gently   stroke   a   few   wayward   strands   and   blend   them   back   with   the   rest.   It's   too   intense   and   even   Klaus   can   feel   it,   so   he   tries   to   break.   A   small   smile,   jovial   and   almost   wistful,   "I   suppose   I've   grown   warm   with   age.   Soft.   An   old   fool.   I   fear   you'll   tame   me   to   your   will   yet,   Slayer."

     “You never know these days.” Witches and werewolves and ghosts, oh my. But she leaves it at that. Elektra waits a beat to see if she expands on that tidbit, noting the look in her eyes. “All right. I’ll bite. You are?”

    ❝ do these tacos taste funny to you? ❞

              “Trying to wrap my brain around this, B. Klaus. I mean, isn’t this the same guy you whanged on me for protecting a couple weeks back? Called him a killer, you weren’t wrong. So, what changed?” only, Faith knows what’s changed. She knows because she lived through it with Klaus’ stupid brother. The Mikaelsons are charm. A thousand years to hone seduction skills, to learn to flirt and to get their way by any means necessary. An addiction and there’s nothing for it. No medicine.