"Long as it's not multiplication tables. I suck at math. "
She laughed a little, but quickly lost the levity. "Did you ever think life would be so. . . empty? Some nights, I feel as though I could choke on the void. "
Jesus, he thought. Yeah, he did.
"Come here," he told her. As she stepped into him, he pulled her in close, tucking her against his chest and resting his chin on the top of her head. "You are such a good female, you know that?"
"You're being charming again. "
"And you are still in distress. "
She relaxed in his arms. "You are very good to me. "
"Back at you. "
"It's not you, you know. I'm not pining over you anymore. "
"I know. " He rubbed her back as a brother would. "So tell me you're coming out - but be warned. I might just have to get you to tell me who you are missing. "
The way she pulled back and ducked his eyes told him, yup, there was a male involved, and nope, she wasn't volunteering any information. "I shall need some clothes. "
"Let's try the guest room. I think we'll find 'em there. " He put an arm around her shoulders and led her down the hall. "And as for this Joe Shmoe of yours, I promise not to beat him - unless he breaks your heart. Then I might have to do some dental work on the bastard. "
Who the hell could it be? he wondered. Everyone in the house was hooked up.
Maybe it was someone she'd met up north at Phury's great camp? But who would the guy be letting in?
Could it be one of the Shadows? Hmm. . . those bastards were males of worth, to be sure, the kind of thing that could definitely turn a female's head.
Man, he wished it was something else, for her sake. Love was hard, even if good people were involved.
In the guest room, he found her some black jeans and a black fleece. He didn't like the idea of her in some miniskirted nightmare - not just because it offended his delicate sensibilities, but he didn't need the Primale doing any cosmetic dentistry on him.
When they came out, John was waiting in the hall, and if he was surprised to be joined by the Chosen, he didn't show much of the reaction. Instead, he was kind to Layla, mouthing small talk with her as Qhuinn threw some proper clothes on.
About ten minutes later, the three of them dematerialized downtown - not to the bars, though: Neither he nor John was interested in escorting a Chosen into Screamer's or the Iron Mask. Instead, they ended up in the theater district, at a dessert place that was open until one a. m. and served liquor along with chocolate thingies draped in whatever topped with blah-blah-blah on a bed of poached uh-huh, yeah. The tables were small, the chairs likewise, and they sat in front of the emergency exit in the back, hunkering down as the waitress continued to blabber about the specials, none of which were appealing.
The beer selectio
n was mercifully short and to the point.
"Two black and tans for us," he said. "And for the lady?"
As he glanced at Layla, she shook her head. "I can't decide. "
"Get both of whatever appeals. "
"All right. . . I'll take the creme brulee and the moon pie. And a cappuccino, please. "
The waitress smiled as she wrote on her pad. "I love your accent. "
Layla inclined her head graciously. "Thank you. "
"I can't place it - French and German? Or. . . Hungarian?"
"Those beers would be great now," Qhuinn said firmly. "We're thirsty. "
When the woman went off, he hairy-eyeballed the other diners, getting markers on their faces and scents, listening to the talk, wondering whether there was an attack coming. Across the way, John was doing the same. 'Cuz, yeah, it was so relaxing taking a Chosen out into the world.