The thing was, he could understand Rosalyn's excitement, getting to feel the sun on her skin again, getting to eat, the freedom of no restrictions, hell the choice to go to church. What Gavin was struggling with was the fact that he went from being alive, well, and having a business... To being dead, very alone, and given that he didn't have her address, apparently now homeless. All he could think about was the fact he couldn't go to anyone. This was just like something from his nightmares as a kid after that night his father was killed. Now that he was one of those creatures, well that caused him to dry heave, and his small hand clutched the railing until he managed to get it under control.

Rosalyn's feelings weren't the only ones bruised. The way she seemed to brush him off and expected him to carry on the things she would do was beyond him, plus the threat just boggled his mind. The sudden urge to stake himself washed over him, and much to his distress, he choked on a sob. No, he couldn't let her see how much this was getting to him. All he wanted to do was sit down and work something out, instead of fighting, and shouting. It was safe to say that Gavin felt incredibly vulnerable. With no other option, he turned around again and started walking behind Rosalyn. "Well it's my house too, I'm going with you." Talk about having your identity stolen.

"Get bent. You're uninvited... woman-beater!" Rosalyn, in a werewolf's body, tromped onward. She didn't know the exact mechanism for making that occur, so it was an empty threat, but still it felt satisfying. The way Gavin was feeling sorry for himself was just... razzing her berries. Honestly! Like it was that awful to be her. Worse things could happen than being transformed into a beautiful woman who was going to live forever. A businesswoman.

And couldn't he have the good grace to be selfless? Rosalyn hadn't chosen to be a vampire. She had her neck ripped out by a sicko. Even though this was an awful situation, she now had a second chance to experience a heartbeat and the relief of taking a deep breath, to taste things, to walk in the sunlight, to see a reflection, and as much as she hated to admit it, to pretend she had loved ones (not that she wanted to hang out with a bunch of werewolves...ick, fat chance). But was Gavin happy for her? Nope.

"I can't believe I dug you," she mumbled. Past tense, well, that was a bit of a lie, wasn't it? Because she was a soulless vampire and slaps weren't all that evil, on such a scale. Mostly her pride was wounded. At the street, she looked around at the nearby cars and searched the keyring. "Wait, did you drive here?"

"I deserved that." Gavin mumbled, his hand moving to sort the skirt trying to wrap around his thighs, grateful that the shoes on his feet were flat. Catching up, he chewed on the side of his lip, forgetting the lipstick. After a moment of walking a few steps behind Rosalyn, he finally said something he had wanted to since it had happened, "Rosalyn, I'm sorry." The words were gentle, but regardless if she accepted the apology or not, he had meant it. Clearing his throat, his blue eyes roamed the street before he pointed out his car. "The black one in the middle."

At her words Gavin's head dropped a little. What he wanted to say was that he dug her too, or digs, he guessed. Instead he walked across the street and stood by the passenger door. It may have seemed strange, the truth was it was a sign of relinquishing power. No one ever got to drive his car, she just didn't know that. Though Rose maintained he wasn't going with her, Gavin was not prepared to go anywhere without her. At least, not until sun came up, and then he was pretty much screwed. "Are we going to my place, or somewhere else?"

"You mean my place?" She unlocked the doors and attempted to sit in the black car, only she didn't duck enough. The werewolf's body was tall, and she thwacked its temple on the roof getting in. "Ouch." A couple of meaty fingers nursed the injury while she stuffed those long legs and big feet into the floorboard. Their destination was definitely Gavin's house. Or wait, was it? They were more likely to get unwelcome visitors from packmates if they holed up there. "Yes," she decided. "We're going to my place." Besides, it was closer.

It had been a while since Rose drove a car, but she remembered it well enough and cranked the engine. "I'll forgive you if you don't say anything mean for the next five minutes." Putting the car into gear, she peeled out from the parking space like she was operating a hot rod.

Gavin almost choked trying to hold back laughter when Rose smacked her head getting into the car. He waited a few seconds before getting into the car, the last thing he needed was her to know how amused he was by it. Getting his seat-belt, he watched as she started the car, wondering if this was how everybody else saw him on a daily basis. Shaking his head, brown hair tickled his ears and the nape of his neck, again his hand came up and idly scratched. "We're going to your place?" Well, this was going to be interesting, that was for sure.

"I think I can manage that." Then again, he hoped he could. Not that he had anything mean to say, but that depended on what else Rose had to say. Now he was stuck in a catch twenty-two. Stretching out his legs, Gavin wiggled his white shoed feet and marvelled at how tiny they were compared to what he was used too. "What do we do at your place?" He might as well ask, he'd never been there before. Right now he wouldn't be surprised if she was planning on locking him in a basement.

"Play checkers? I don't know." Rosalyn careened around a corner. A block later, she remembered to turn on the headlights. "We'll... decide on a plan for the next day or so, until we can get this sorted." There, that sounded good, aside from being completely void of content. Still, she enjoyed sounding in charge of things, especially with Gavin's voice. What the story was there, she didn't know, but figured it had something to do with the horizontal mambo. After navigating a couple of streets, she pulled into a parking lot outside a brick apartment building. It wasn't much to look at. Not run-down, exactly, just nondescript, a real city building with fire escapes, a narrow entryway with mailboxes, and a winding staircase.

Rose lived on the top floor. It had the best view, and nobody's hooves clunking around on her ceiling during the daylight hours when she was catching Zz's. She reached up for a key she hid on top of the door frame and let them in. When she flipped the switch, a couple of lamps draped in shawls brightened up the space. The vampire's apartment was a smallish one-bedroom. The decor was, like Rose, a bit vintage: sturdy pieces of furniture with simple, clean lines and chrome accents, a hardwood floor spruced up with shaggy throw rugs, and lamps with fringe. The most outlandish piece of furniture was an end table shaped like an amoeba or a boomerang, very 50s-kitsch. The walls were painted pale pink.

It was exactly the kind of place that made men feel as if they'd stepped into a boudoir. It didn't help that Rose had discarded stockings and other garments all over the apartment.

Rosalyn perched on her stiff couch and crossed her ankles, looking comically ladylike in Gavin's body. "You can relax, clyde. There's no dead body stuffed in a corner."

Feeling like it was the best thing to do, Gavin stayed silent for the rest of the car ride. Waiting until they got into Rosalyn's place before finally talking, "Nice colours." They were subtle and almost lulled you into a comfortable calm. Something that he really appreciated right now, at least. Tactfully ignoring the clothes laying around, Gavin took off the red coat and draped it over the arm of the couch. "Oh I'm relaxed." The soft sounds of Rosalyn's voice floated through the air. "Really." Damn... That was the last thing he was, and they both knew it.

Gavin moved, sitting on the opposite side of the couch, his knees apart and feet firmly planted on the ground with his arms folded across his chest. Which was distracting in a whole lot of ways. Taking a breath that he didn't need, Gavin let his head fall back, eyes closing as he let out a sigh. Any minute now, he'd wake up...

"I don't suppose you have food?" Daft question really, but he sure as hell wasn't going to chow down on some homeless fella. Maybe that burger place she ate from delivered? Oh, the irony stung. "Or more comfortable clothes?" No matter how much he tried, he just couldn't get over the fact he was wearing a skirt.

She reached over and snatched at the skirt, covering Gavin's knees. "Hey, it's not a peep show. Close your legs!" That was all she needed-- Gavin to go out wearing her body like some kind of softball-playing tomboy, scratching at the crotch and letting the free world see his (their?) panties. As for clothes, she did have a pair of silk pajamas with an 'R' monogrammed on the breast. She went into the bedroom, rustled through the dresser drawers, and came out with it. Rose tossed the set at him.

Then she went to the refrigerator and leaned into the open door. She wasn't accustomed to playing hostess and resented it slightly. Suppose she wanted to change clothes. No way on god's green was Rosalyn putting on another pair of jeans and a flannel shirt, like some kind of female lumberjack. "You're in luck!" She found a styrofoam cup full of butcher's blood (not the preferred item, but no self-respecting survivalist vampire depended upon a kill these days) and brought it over to Gavin, extending it like a prize. "Drink up, big boy. I've got a healthy thirst."

Indignantly, Gavin waved his small hands around, "We're the only ones here!" He was about to say that she had seen herself before, but then he remembered that she wouldn't have a reflection. Catching the set of pajamas, Gavin smirked slightly. Not a peep show huh? Well she could just jump off her moral horse. With utterly no shame, (why would there be, it wasn't his body) he began to peel off the clothes he wore right there in the living room. It crossed his mind that they were acting like an old married couple, but the thought of one upping her was keeping him going.

Granted, she was only seeing her own body, but his body happened to remember what hers felt like. Besides, if she got flustered, maybe she would shut up with her smart comments. Accepting the cup from Rosalyn, he set it down in favour of doing up the pajama top, the material cool against his already chilled skin. Once comfortable, Gavin sat down and lifted the cup of blood. No doubt she would be watching him to see if he choked or gagged on it. "Cheers." Tilting his head back, Gavin chugged the coppery tasting liquid like it was a bet. Fast, without stopping, that way he didn't taste much of it. Although if he were honest, what he did taste was alright, which was disturbing. "So, should I go ahead and find your checkers board?"

Rosalyn, who was finally coming to know the werewolf's body enough to feel at home in it, crossed her arms peevishly. "Swell, hot shot, the windows are open. Half the neighbors might've just seen me in the nude." Going over to the curtains, she tugged them shut. What he thought of as morality was more old-school sentimentality than anything. A charm school drop-out Rose might've been, but she was a big believer in feminine mystery and had taken great pains to preserve those qualities of Marlene Dietrich-esque mannerisms over the decades, after the rest of her morals slipped away like melted ice cream, along with her soul.

"I guess you don't mind sharing," she said, Gavin's lumbering stride becoming a saunter as she went to the telephone and flipped through an outdated directory. For the time, she ignored his checkers suggestion and instead ordered herself a large pizza with everything under the sun for a topping. Men liked pizza, and she guessed Gavin's tongue did, too. Upon hanging up, Rose drummed her thick fingertips on the end table, hoping to think up an idea. "I don't know any witches," she said, "Oh, but I do know this delicious librarian who might have a few books. Well... he looked delicious. I didn't actually get to bite him."

Groaning, he lifted his arms up and let them fall back down on either side of his thighs, the sound of them thumping against the couch was interrupted when Gavin muttered, "What do you mean sharing?" It wasn't as if he pranced around the place and waved at her neighbours. So he wanted to get comfortable, everything he seemed to be doing was just like taking a wrong turn after a wrong turn. In a huff, Gavin moved his slender form onto the couch further, tucking his legs up by his side now that his shoes were off. Resting his chin on his palm, he watched her quietly as she moved around, I don't want to fight with you, he thought, turning his attention to the opposite wall.

The pizza thing didn't bother him nearly as much as the comment about the tasty librarian. Grimacing, he shot back, "I really didn't need to know that." Adding quietly to himself, "Sounds like a ponce anyway." Witches? He didn't know any witches, then again, he didn't know any librarians either. What a great help he was, the night was turning into one great big disaster and he had a front row seat. "Maybe it's not just us." Shrugging, Gavin craned his neck to look over at Rosalyn, "Like that mall thing with prom, maybe it's not just us?" He wondered briefly if it would be on the news, then thought better of it.

Rose saw that his posture was slumping and twisted her lips. It was the librarian remark that poked through the thick candy shell around her brain. He did have a thing for her, didn't he? At least a little. She was being too hard on him; she couldn't seem to help herself. Something about being swapped was bringing out the party pooper in her. "Maybe not." She quit her post by the telephone and sat next to Gavin.

Not normally the type for confessionals or admitting blame, she contemplated apologizing for ribbing him. She even contemplated spilling the beans-- even if the swap hadn't happened, Rose probably would've pushed every button he had anyway, just to see if Gavin reacted. Not because she liked kicking up a fuss, but because she had this itchy-achey place in her chest that had been there since they Did The Deed, and absolutely no clue how to scratch it. Worse, she had a seriously freaky feeling he had to do it for her.

She curled her legs up, too, and leaned onto him, completely forgetting how much heavier she was now. "Sorry I'm being such a nosebleed."

Relief washed over him when he felt Rosalyn lean against him. There was also a hint of awkwardness, given his smaller size, as he looked up at her and saw his own face looking back. "You're not being a nosebleed." Gavin lifted a small hand and very tentatively, cupped the cheek he had struck earlier that night, as his soft thumb ran over the short stubble beneath it he whispered, "I am." Which was true, he was so concerned about himself he hadn't even stopped to ask her how she was holding up.

The position they were in meant he could rest his head against her broad shoulder, and took the liberty of doing so just after he took his hand back. "You wear my body pretty well." Much better than he was wearing hers, that was for sure. The heat radiating from her felt good, and he found himself slipping an arm around her lower back, his fingers in turn gripping her hip at the other side. The steady thump of a heartbeat could be heard, almost hypnotic in its repetitive drumming. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better, that doesn't involve torturing me?" Gavin didn't move his head from its resting place on Rosalyn, despite the fact that they were in each others' body, there was a mild fear that she wouldn't ever forgive him, and he just didn't want to let her go in case this was the last time he got to.

"No torture? Well that rules out all the good stuff." She pouted (it felt like his body rarely used those muscles) and smiled to let Gavin know she was kidding. "Hang tight a second. Let me take a gander." The outrage over the situation had subsided, for the moment, and now Rose was fascinated. With the werewolf's large hand, she cupped the chin that should've been hers and really looked at herself for the first time in ages. "Hmm. I haven't aged a day," she said, gently turning his face back and forth. It was out of this world, and in some circles maybe deranged, but Rose was curious about what men saw in her.

No matter how much Gavin looked like Rosalyn, though, he wasn't her. He was Gavin stuck in a petite body, and she got the notion he even wore her expressions differently. Behind the blue eyes, she just saw him looking back at her. She leaned forward and pressed Gavin's mouth against her softer one. The experience was unusual, awkward and yet compelling. Rose withdrew. "You're forgiven, since you let me off the hook. And to answer your question... if you hadn't shown up tonight, I would've been a little frosted."

While Rosalyn studied herself, Gavin tried not to smile or frown or do anything at all, just so she could see. So she could remember all the little details that he had spent memorising that night in his apartment. It should have felt weird, watching himself the way she was currently watching her own self. Instead, it was almost surreal. "Is this how everyone sees me?" Gavin had never saw himself move, or talk, other than in a mirror when he was getting ready. For a brief moment, he wondered if this was what a clone of himself would be like.

The kiss was strange, he saw himself leaning in for it and had to remind himself that it was Rose, inside him. Closing his eyes, he experienced the sensations, and when she pulled back he cocked his head to the side to ask quietly, "So that's what it feels like for you, when we do that." Not many people could say that they had experienced something through someone else. Tilting his head to the side, he regarded Rosalyn for a moment, deciding it was far too difficult to work out what she was thinking when he was staring at himself. "Why frosted?"

"A girl doesn't like being hung out to dry," she said. It was easier for Rose to explain herself when she put things in third person, as if asserting that whatever she felt, any girl would, and therefore there was absolutely no risk in admitting it, since it was a foregone conclusion. When push came to shove, Rosalyn Voorhies wasn't a pretty twenty-seven year old woman. She was a demon, supposedly limited in her sentimentality and capacity to be wounded. For the better part of sixty years, it had been true. One moment, she was charismatic, ironically cheerful, charming, a consummate lady; the next she was a femme fatale, a twisted version of Eve holding an apple, so that when Adam took a bite, she could, too. But during none of those moments was she lovesick.

Why Gavin had her engine so revved was a mystery.

Rose tapped the tip of his nose. "I already miss looking at you, stud."

"So you're saying you like to stay in and be wet?" Maybe he shouldn't have said it while being so close to Rosalyn, but the words were out before he could blink, and her slender shoulders began to shake as he tried not to laugh. Biting his lower lip, Gavin let his hand splay across Rosalyn's chest, marvelling at how dainty it looked there. The beat of her (his) heart was like a small, warm throb just under the surface of her shirt. He could smell the blood flowing through her, and in a sick way, he had the urge to press his tongue along the pulse of her neck. Resisting the temptation for now, Gavin laughed at her words, especially hearing them in his own voice.

Brushing a small hand over the short hair on Rosalyn's head, the werewolf turned vampire asked, "Why, didn't they have a mirror in here when you moved in. You can see me any time you want." The thing that saddened him was that he couldn't do the same, and he missed her smile so.

"It's not the same." Rose tipped her head, a thread of mischief in the grizzled voice. "Not that I won't look anyway."

So many things would need to be navigated: her temper (after all, claws and a wolf snout were not her bag), his pack mates, learning to aim at the toilet. "It's lucky we made up, Gavin. I was about to draw a bath and shave my legs." The thought still killed her. Had Rose kept up with her spiteful mood, she might have waltzed into Gavin's restaurant with those bare legs on display, dressed head to toe in drag. But that would undoubtedly draw suspicion (and probably torment), and maybe Gavin would've been so upset, he 'accidentally' tripped on a broken broom handle.

Eye's widening, Gavin spluttered a few moments then laughed, albeit nervously. "Oh yeah? Maybe you'd look good with a hair cut like mine." Wiggling his shaped eyebrows, Gavin upped the teasing by blowing her a kiss. Though inside he hoped to god she didn't take a razor anywhere except his face. Mind you, if push came to shove and they wound up hating each other, at the first sign of wacky behaviour from her, he would probably do something just as wicked back. He was a werewolf at heart, and tempers could flare and burn brightly for a long time.

"Speaking of looking..." His nimble fingers hooked at the front of his pajama top and he peeked under it with a broad grin. "I guess I could get really bored during the day when you're out gallivanting." What he was implying could really mean anything, but the cocky smirk that he flashed was hinting at the obscene.

"Nothing new," she said, "What do you think I do all day?" Rosalyn smiled. "In fact, you'd better go ahead and make plans, or it might go into withdrawal."

A pocket of the pants she wore began to chirp and vibrate, and after a laugh at the timing and saying, "See?" Rose pulled out the cell phone and read the display. "Probably a customer. What do you think he'd do if I answered in this voice? Do you think he'd lay an egg or go with it?" She thumbed a button on the side to silence the ringer. She had no intention of trying to make Gavin answer the calls, which had been forwarded from the publicized number to her personal phone.

Jaw slack, Gavin gaped at Rosalyn, many images dancing across his imagination before he composed himself and shifted slightly on the couch. That... He had not been prepared for. "Wouldn't want that." He finally managed, annoyed to find that his voice had suddenly went very high. Coughing, he took a moment when the phone rang to get a hold of himself, only to realise who it may have been.

An unfamiliar feeling ran through him, as if his non existing heart had just fallen. To begin with, he truly thought the business was just a joke that she baited him with, knowing that it was real, well, he wasn't sure what he felt only that it wasn't very pleasant. "Have I got to answer it?" He hoped not, but the way she had said it earlier made him doubt. What would he even say? Images of Rosalyn having to write out small scripts came to mind, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or sigh.

"No," she said, dropping the phone on the area rug and shrugging it off with the nonchalance of someone whose livelihood (so to speak) didn't depend on it. Eternal Bliss was an entertaining scheme, more than anything, a project to brighten up the boredom of immortality. There had been no way to know, back on the el when the idea occurred, that she'd be in a compromising position with it; no way to know that Gavin would still be around when she got it up and running, or that he'd loosen up his rules and like her enough to mind. In Rose's brain, still, whatever they were doing together would build to a point where Gavin would hit his ethical limit and peel himself away from her, whether Rosalyn liked it or not: She, a woman that was a vampire, that bit and killed for survival, that he was bred to hate, and that operated a phone sex hotline, would get cast off.

Those future concerns she flicked away, like pieces of lint from a sweater. Only lately there seemed to be a neverending supply of lint.

"I'm thinking expansion," she said. "A couple of birds to operate the lines, and me with a cigar, watching while the cash rolls in." Rosalyn really could imagine herself as a madam of sorts, supervising an undead flock of honey-tongued 'call' girls. "Well," she sighed, "My job's out until we get this settled. What about yours? You don't want me to... cook... do you?" The way she said it, cook was a dirty word.

There was so much he couldn't explain lately, and all he could say to himself was that he was doing what his instincts told him. Why did he trust Rosalyn enough to let her into his home, what was he doing breaking rules he lived by, why was he putting his life on the line just to be around her and her unlife? Gut reactions. Gavin was always honest with himself, and trusted in himself enough to go through with what he felt. Now he wasn't sure if he should have. After all, he was a werewolf, and those things she said about his kind were every bit as horrible as his own species said about hers. It was only a matter of time before she thought the same about him, and maybe he wouldn't be amusing enough to have him stick around. Well, that was bleak.

Ignoring the comment on the call centre, Gavin let his mouth tug into a small smile, "Mine is out. I know, you'll be devastated, but no cooking for you. Some things are still better left to my hands." Rubbing the side of his smooth jaw, he let out an un-needed sigh. "Looks like we're having a winter holiday." No work, no plans, just a lot of spare time.

"Oh thank god." Rose allowed a dramatic drop of her head on the couch. "I'm a spaz in the kitchen. They'd know it wasn't you in five seconds flat." Long about the time she lopped off a finger or set the pots ablaze, the jig would be up. "Five seconds flat," she repeated, altering the rhythm of speech slightly. "Five seconds flat. Did I mention I dig your chords?" Now it was her voice to do with as she wished. She put her hands behind her head and gazed at the pink ceiling. "I should get a recording. Rose. Rose, you're the finest filly in the pasture."

A wicked smile lit up the werewolf's face as she remembered a favorite thing he had said. "I could just eat you."


Laughing, Gavin shook his head, brown hair caressing the back of his neck gently. "A recording?" He rolled his eyes, only to hear the next words, which caused several different reactions. Flustered, because the memory flashed so vividly into his mind, hungry, because the demon inside him took it too far, and a twinge of arousal as he realised her body had reacted to it. Clearing his throat, while his hand rubbed the base of his neck, Gavin grinned crookedly. "Don't say that."

Curiously he let his gaze float around Rosalyn's apartment, at the time he hadn't been sure what to expect, but now that he was here it felt comfortable. Nothing strange or weird, like paintings of dead people or just dead people in general, now that he thought about it. The funny thing was, he did want to get to know her, he just never imagined he'd literally get under her skin.

"What?" Rose pretended to helpful. "Is 'suck you dry' better?" Certainly more accurate anyway, at least under ordinary circumstances. It was an evil chuckle that rumbled in the werewolf's chest, but she was prepared to drop it, now that she'd gotten in a final jab. Down in her midsection, a growl alerted her to the tardiness of the pizza delivery guy. Once the food arrived, she planned to eat three... maybe four pieces in a row, a luxury of overeating she hadn't allowed herself as a human. Rose had been far too concerned about her figure. Now the concept of real taste was causing her stomach to churn eagerly.

She stretched longer on the couch and found that Gavin's feet hung off the end. It wasn't designed with comfortable lounging in mind. Why hadn't she guessed a man wouldn't fit? Rose kicked the boots off and bent those knees. "You know, this is my inner sanctuary," she said, gesturing at what could technically be termed a nest. It certainly wasn't a crypt. "I can't tell you the last time a man was in here, and now the man is me. Far out."

"No..." The voice that it came out in was a surprise even to him, like a quiet little purr. Perplexed, he shifted so that he was leaning his elbow on the arm of the couch, idly his slim fingers drummed against the edge of it. "If we hadn't switched, would I still be sitting here on your couch?" Eager minds wanted to know, mainly, his. "At least I can say now I know what it feels like to be a man trapped in a woman's body." Though in hindsight, that wasn't something to brag about.

Hearing the footsteps outside the door, (at least that part hadn't really changed), Gavin leaned over and slipped his nimble hand into his pants pocket, grabbing his wallet before standing up. "Since I never did cook you dinner, I'm sure as hell going to be the first one who buys you it." With a wink, he pulled out a few notes just as someone knocked on the door. Tossing Rosalyn his wallet back, he meandered to the door, coming back a few seconds later with the warm pizza box. It was handed to her before he claimed his place back onto the couch, letting his head cock to the side as he watched her.

Rosalyn sat up and let the warm box heat her lap. The smell of garlic and tomato sauce was intoxicating. She opened the lid and picked up a piece, as gently as if it were caviar. Opening her mouth, she blew on it and took an enormous bite, nothing like the tiny nibbles of food she'd taken in the 1950s. The spices and cheese competed for attention on her tongue, and she didn't mind that it scalded the roof of Gavin's mouth. "Mmmph! This is to die for," she mumbled, gobbling up a string of cheese and pepperoni that dangled from the slice. She chewed her way through half the slice before tossing out, "You'd have gotten here eventually," in answer to his former question, and continuing to eat.

The living had no idea how lucky they were, Rose was thinking. Sure, vampires had an eternity of pleasures, but there was little variety in them: blood, hunting, sex. It was nothing compared to the buffet of pleasures humans enjoyed in their brief lives. Pizza would forever be a contender on the list of top ten things that Rose missed. She licked her fingers.

Gavin snorted, "Eventually. And hey, you can't say that yet, you haven't tried anything I've made." He poked her knee gently with his bare foot before tucking it back under himself. Maybe it was odd, but he was finding it quite amazing how he could sit all curled up like that, without his knees even touching the end. Compact. That was how he felt, he could fit into dainty little places he couldn't do in his own body. Granted, it was a novelty, but it was one that seemed to be keeping happy for the meantime.

"I should write you a list of restaurants you should go to, you'd love it." Despite the gloom and doom of everything, Rosalyn's buzz from doing something he got to do every day was rubbing off on him. Food was something he was passionate about, and in such a bizarre turn of events, it was something he could finally share with her. Although he wasn't sure if that was lucky or a curse, lucky if they changed back, and he didn't dare think past that. "How eventually are we talking?" Like she wouldn't ask if he had said it.

"You're not jealous of delivery pizza, surely?" she asked, her tone implying it would be crazy. It was a greasy treat, but no delicacy. Another piece of the pie was lifted from the box. "And that is a trick question," Rose said. She took a bite and continued to speak with her mouth full, daring to cast off manners. His body offered a certain kind of freedom from self-imposed decorum. "If I say only a couple of days, you'll know you've got in made in the shade. If I say a month, at first you'll be offended, until you realize it implies a certain willingness to keep you around, and then you know a little something else, don't you?" She chewed a bit of cheese that stuck to her thumb. "A girl's got no graceful exit, and you should always allow a lady her exit."

Rolling his eyes towards heaven, Gavin felt his lips curve into a grin, "I'm just saying don't die over that when you've got lots more to try." Shifting down, he let his head rest on the arm of the couch, his legs tucked up along side him. Looking up at Rosalyn, he interjected slyly, "You made it sound like it would have been a while, or a month, either work." So he was taking the opportunity to poke at her a little, he didn't mean any harm by it, and truth be told he was a little flattered. "So when I eventually got here..." He clasped his hands behind his head and gazed up at the ceiling, trying not to show his amusement, "What would we do?" Of course he was waiting on some smart arse comeback, but it was a pleasant distraction from wondering who showered first, and who was getting to sleep where, and clothes... If he had it his way, he would be staying in pajamas until he was back to being himself again.

Dropping the crust, Rose wiped her hands on a napkin and got up. It took special attention not to bang her knee on the coffee table. She went to a hope chest beneath the windows, knelt to open it, and removed a box that rattled. When she plopped back on the couch and lifted the lid, twenty-four red and black disks skittered against one another. "Did you think I was kidding?" The former vampire held up a checker and smiled.

"I'm red."