There was something absolutely enigmatic about lingering in the were's presence. The longer we stayed in the work-room, the harder it was to ignore that I would rather turn my full attention to him than inspect the cube I had been delegated to receive. With its mysticism and curious prowess not entirely unknown, it should have been my focal point. I should have wanted to discover the cube, to let it play longer when its magic reached out to my own. But what did I do? No, I very well didn't continue my exploration of the artifact. Instead, I put it back into its box like a good girl and (okay, there wasn't much coaxing needed) turned so I could raise my gaze from the cube, to the true object of my attention.

... Were were-creatures an it, or a who? A that or a whom? Without really pausing to think of the grammatical worries of how to refer to Tetradore, a smile broke the bare of my features when he attempted to derail the innuendo I'd perfectly set up for him. "Do you, now?" I asked, the words probably the most expected reply. Instead of allowing him pause to feel uncomfortable with my familiarity, I ran my fingers over the place on my shoulder where his had been, catching only the briefest scents of amber lingering on the skin there. It was comforting â€" and yes, it quelled the anxieties that had been budding in my stomach since Davante asked me to stay in his shop alone. Tetradore seemed to be nothing to fear, but then again â€" was my brother? Okay, I answered myself. Point taken; the anxieties I had were worth noting, but they quickly dissipated as the air between us grew more familiar with every word spoken.

"... You just asked the most debatable and indiscernible question to womankind to a particularly open-minded and hungry lady."

Ah, the most difficult question! In all honesty, food has been a strange subject for me for as long as I can remember. As a child, we ate whatever we could get regardless of whether or not we liked it. When we moved to the United States, things were still restricted because of a small budget feeding too many mouths; I took what I could get, or I made due. And now? I've grown from then, being able to tend to my own preferences with my own income and what not... but the strange habits don't go away, you know? If you asked my siblings, they'd refer to periods of time when I was too skinny as periods of an eating disorder... little do they know, it was just that I had nothing. I had nothing in me to try to nourish â€" you know? I never expected... okay, that's not true. There were times I didn't expect to survive periods of my life, so why try? It wasn't like I was giving up, it was just more of a ... I don't want this anymore. However many tribulations or whatever I've been through, there are months and almost years between disorder and me.

At least, of that kind. It's not like it was something he needed to know, anyway.

" So, usually, the hostage doesn't get any choices; I'll spare you this, and let you take it as a learning experience. There's a small bar up the street that has good burgers."

Hostages don't make decisions, what did he think this was? Amused with myself and him, I brushed past him to open the back room door and exit into the shop where I could lock the front door, flick off the neons, and bee-line for the backdoor. After we'd both left the building, I gently flicked the lock with a key Davante left me, before burrowing into the coat I'd wriggled into during my exit.

"Do you like Aiden or Tetradore better?"

Should I be sorry for knowing more about him than I originally led on?