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[daniel_stacy]

With a red ink pen, Daniel circled a want ad for security at a local hot spot. He did so begrudgingly because the last thing he wanted was to be that dick who turned people away at the door, but his checking account sat at $362.87. He was getting desperate. The newspaper rattled as he turned the page and skimmed the back side for other opportunities.

Hostess. Electrician. Craps dealer. Plumber.

He rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand and refocused on the small print. Where qualifications didn’t take him out of contention, pesky details like daytime operating hours did the trick. Maybe he was barking up the wrong tree. Maybe he ought to hit the streets and look in establishments that served demons. Or maybe he should start robbing people blind like Deanna had suggested.

Man, how long had it been since he saw Deanna? Two months or more? Was she still around? Daniel wondered if he’d know if she dusted, or just wander around clueless for the next hundred years.

He sipped black coffee and took stock of his surroundings.

Hash Brown’s was a locals spot known as much for its colorful wait staff of off-duty drag queens as its specialty dish of fried potatoes. It was cheap fare and the atmosphere was relaxed, if you discounted the occasional bursts of raucous laughter from the kitchen and dramatic arguments between the line cooks and management. Daniel liked it enough that he never fed off a customer.

“You need anything else, sweetie?” The waiter tucked a pencil behind his earlobe. He splashed more coffee into the vampire’s emptying mug.

Daniel rubbed his palms together. If he didn’t order something substantial soon, he’d get bumped out of his booth. “Ah, yeah, actually. Can I get a hamburger scramble, rare as you can legally serve it?”

“You got it, baby.” A smirk and a sashay.

“Yep. That guy knows I’m a vampire,” Daniel said. He looked out the window as an ambulance shrieked by.

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[holiday_pirner]

The stove in Holly's apartment had stopped working. She had put in a request to have it fixed, but in the meanwhile, she was starving for something not microwaved. She entered the diner, just in time to catch the exchange between Daniel and the waiter.

Holly slid into the unoccupied side of the booth, grabbing a laminated menu. "Hamburger scramble? Sounds delightful."

She began perusing the menu for something more her style. "How's the great job hunt going? Hey, I had a thought." The brunette lowered the menu, studying the vampire across from her.

"Can you sell your organs on the black market? Do you need them?"

[daniel_stacy]

Well, where did she come from?

Daniel’s brow furrowed, but there was a smile coming. Holly was a strange girl. Sometimes he wouldn’t see or hear from her for days, a week, and then bam, she popped up in unexpected places. He watched the menu bowing in her hand, and the glare of the fluorescent lights catching on the plastic.

“I don’t know… That’s brilliant,” he said, and then reconsidered. “Assuming they still work. Huh.” He thumbed his mouth and tried to imagine his insides. If he cut himself open, what would it look like in there? Where the organs rotten or were they preserved, in a constant state of self-healing? Would it do him any harm to cut out a kidney or would it grow back? Most importantly, would Holly perform amateur surgery to help him figure that out or make him do it himself?

He folded the newspaper. “It goes. How are you, what’s up with you?”

[holiday_pirner]

"Oh, you know," she answered vaguely, studying the menu. "Same as always."

The waiter returned to their table, and if he was annoyed at having to take a second order, he hid it well.

Fuck it. "I'll have the same as him," Holly told him, nodding toward Daniel. "Oh, but not rare." She watched as a white mug was filled with black coffee, the slightly oily surface reflecting the overhead lights.

"I've been careful, you'll be pleased to know. No more gallivanting in the streets."

[daniel_stacy]

“Don’t not ever gallivant.” Most awkward sentence ever. “Just not by yourself at 3 a.m. and you’re high and wearing a black leather mini skirt and you’ve got,” he waggled his fingers at his ear, “headphones on and you know.”

Daniel scowled. Probably not the best person to give her a safety talk, was he? Except he knew, because he had – once upon a time – eaten a girl who was dancing down Las Vegas Boulevard with headphones on. Situational awareness, zero.

Still. It was annoying, and she wasn’t stupid.

He tugged his earlobe. “How’s that guy? Rhys?”

And if he said the name ‘Rhys’ with disdain, it was tonally mild.

[holiday_pirner]

She stirred in cream and sugar, making a production of wiping the spoon off with a napkin. "We can make a deal. I'll gallivant with you."

Holly looked out the window, headlights from passing cars making a glare against the glass. "He's alive. Healing. I think he's embarrassed." She shrugged, turning back to Daniel.

[daniel_stacy]

"Deal. And please bring the skirt."

Daniel followed her look and watched the cars pass through Holly's reflection. He still didn't like his lack of one. It made him feel like a ghost or a figment of someone's imagination. "Is he staying around or did he get canned?" Fair question, he thought. Although Holly was safe and sound, the guy did get stabbed on the clock and had to be rescued by his client. That was bound to look bad to Grandma.

[holiday_pirner]

"I didn't ask. I also didn't call my grandmother, and I don't know if he did, either. She might not even know what's going on."

Holly took a long sip of her coffee, an attempt at breaking that long, rambling string of words.

"You know, I never asked you..." The brunette shot a glance to the counter to make sure no waitstaff were within earshot. "How's that...not killing people thing going?"

[daniel_stacy]

"What's today, the eighteenth?" He looked over the counter and its row of stools, in case there was a wall calendar hanging up by some weird chance. A tacky scenic one. There was not. "If today's the eighteenth, it's been twenty-six days."

It's hard as shit and part of me hates it.

[holiday_pirner]

Holly watched a man three booths over dancing in his seat to the last wave of disco pumping unobtrusively through the PA system. "That long? Huh."

There wasn't much else to say about the matter, or nothing that she could think of. As far as she was concerned, the brunette had exhausted the subject in the hospital waiting room.

"Daniel," she began as delicately as she could, eyeing the want ads. "Do you need to borrow money?"

[daniel_stacy]

"What? No." He dribbled coffee all over the newspaper. Daniel cuffed the moisture off his chin and set the mug on a stained napkin. Jesus. This was bad if the girl he was sleeping with felt sorry for him and wanted to loan him money. He needed to get his shit together, fast. Being broke wasn't sexy.

"Look," he said, lowering his voice and leaning closer. "I'm gonna figure things out. It wasn't easy to stop draining people dry and I figured that out. I only fucked up once and I got her to the hospital in time. She's fine. I can get a job."

He'd drive a cab if he had to.

[holiday_pirner]

"Just a thought," she replied, watching the coffee stain the pages. The waiter chose that moment to deliver their food to them, and Holly pulled the plate toward her.

"Okay. I believe in you." She gave him a brief smirk before finishing the rest of her coffee. The cup was refilled in seconds. That was the nice thing about diners.

[daniel_stacy]

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to spaz out, it’s just… more than embarrassing.” He jabbed his fork into the rare hamburger meat and ate it. When vampires said they couldn’t taste food anymore, he didn’t know what they were talking about. Daniel still tasted it; it just wasn’t all that appetizing anymore. Like his taste buds had changed. The blood in the meat was flavorful though. “As long as nobody hands me a copy of What Color is Your Parachute?, I can deal with it.” He wiped his mouth, wadded up a paper napkin and squeezed it.

He had some ideas. Get hired on as personal security. Find a job as a bookie at one of the illegal fighting establishments cropping up around the city. Work the night shift in a butcher shop and drink animal blood to his heart’s content. Sling hash in this joint and smell like fry grease all the time.

“So what are you doing these days?” He drank some water. “What’s filling all the hours?”