“Out of the way!  Out of the way!”

I stepped aside, pressing myself up against the wall as a flock of doctors and nurses rushed the gurney past me.  It was gone in a flurry of white fabric, lending the hallway an enhanced smell of antiseptic and blood for a moment, before it faded back to the background level.

Hospitals were always uncomfortable places to be, for a healthy person.  I'd found them even more uncomfortable since I'd stopped needing them.  Even my worst injuries healed with a few days of rest and enough food.  For me, a tossed-aside couch in an alley by the docks was as good a place to recover as a million-dollar hospital room with a thousand beeping gadgets and a closet stuffed with the most cutting-edge medicines.  Better, even.  The alley's smell was a lot more tolerable.

Explaining that to doctors never seemed to go well.  They always seemed to take it as an insult, rather than a basic fact.

I stayed where I was, watching as dozens of other people carefully eased away from the walls, looking up and down the hall before moving on again.  I'd learned the hard way that the gurneys didn't stop for anything.

Seconds after the gurney was gone, the momentarily interrupted rush was in full swing again.  Most people that zipped through the halls were obviously staff.  Doctors, hurrying by quickly enough that their white coats flapped behind them.  Nurses in hospital uniforms, all of them with half-panicked expressions on their faces and hands full of either paperwork or coffee cups.  Sometimes both.  They all shared the same dark circles under their eyes.  Others were the sort I pegged as administrative staff.  Suits rather than scrubs, though they had the same harried appearance.  Rumpled clothes and frazzled hair.  None of them, clearly, had slept in a long while.

There were more, of course.  Protectorate employees, in both suits and armor.  The first type were similar to the hospital staff, rushing around with arms full of paperwork or talking into a cellphone as they scurried by.  The second type were more sedate, standing guard in front of occupied sick rooms, guns on slings over their shoulders or held at the ready, carefully observing everyone that passed by them.

Of all the hundreds of people I'd passed in the last few minutes, only the guards had given me a second glance.  Or even a first one, most of the time.

The reason wasn't that surprising.  Normally, capes were a rarity.  Enough so that a random person on the street could go years between seeing one in the flesh.  Here, though, there were another seven just in my line of sight, moving through the halls just like anyone else, and given just as little attention.  Too many individual crises to tend to.  No time for a sight that had probably become common to all the hospital staff over the last thirty hours.

Not that I was much different.  I didn't recognize most of the capes around me, nor did I pay them that much attention.  They were from all over the country, after all, with a few from other nations that didn't close their portals.  The UK, France, Japan, South Korea, China, and more that I couldn't peg as easily.

My eyes did catch on one specific individual as she walked down the hall.  People made way for her as much as they did for the gurneys that were still common, rushing critical patients to surgery.  She didn't wear a costume, that I could tell.  She didn't need one.  Her entire body blazed with light, bright enough to outshine the already over-bright fluorescents in the ceiling.  Purity.  A local villain.  I'd heard of her.  She'd had a bad reputation as a villain-villain, up until a few years back.  An old-style gangster, focused on crime rather than hunting monsters.  Part of one of the gangs that hadn't changed with the times, one of the very few that had stayed strong enough to fight off the PRTCJ.  Purity had been a large part of that, or so I'd heard.

She caught me staring as she approached, and slowed to a stop next to me.

“If you're injured, intake is down on the first floor,” she said.  Her voice, in contrast to her burning-magnesium appearance, was normal.  Confident, even aggressive, but that was all.  I didn't feel any heat radiating off her, either, which surprised me more than it probably should have.  Even weirder, I smelled a faint hint of perfume and deodorant, just barely noticeable under the overpowering hospital stink.

“Oh, uh, I'm fine,” I said, rapping a knuckle against my breastplate.  “All healed up.”

She glanced down, the motion difficult to see with the glare that surrounded her.

I shifted my legs, keenly aware of the dried blood that coated my pants.  “That's from something else,” I explained.

“If you say so,” she said, clearly skeptical.  She paused for a moment, and if it had been anyone else, I would have said they were lost for words.  “You were here to fight?”

I nodded, my mouth twisting slightly.  “Just search and rescue,” I said.

She nodded absently.  “That's admirable,” she said.  “Necessary, even.  Thank you, on behalf of the city.”

“Uh, sure,” I said.  “Any time.”

She nodded again, then continued down the hall.  I watched her go, frowning, until she rounded a corner, out of sight.

Well that was weird.

I shook my head, trying to focus.  Without a threat or a goal to focus on, my body was informing me of how much I'd pushed it recently.  My stomach was a hollow pit, and my head was fuzzy, despite the fact that I'd woken up not ten minutes ago.  I wanted nothing as much as to stuff myself to bursting, then sleep for a week.  But a hospital – much less one in the aftermath of a crisis – wasn't the place to do it.

I pushed off the wall with a grunt, then stretched my arms over my head, joints popping.  A few people glanced my way as I did, but ultimately ignored me.

“Okay,” I said out loud.  “Room three-seventy-four.”

Hospital corridors passed me by, each distressingly similar to the one before.  I was sure that some people would have been able to tell one from another, know what differences the individual departments had, but I wasn't one of them.  To me, it was all a blur – or worse, a maze – with only occasional signs to tell me where I was, and whether I was going the wrong way.

That, I had to admit, happened more than I would have liked.  The signs near the ceiling, the arrows on the walls and floors, they seemed to be set up for some kind of alien.  The sort that thought in ways just a bit sideways to humans.  Nothing was totally clear, and everything could mean two things, one of which was inevitably wrong.

Eventually, though, I located my ultimate goal.  A door like any other, in the middle of a hall that might as well have been the same one I'd emerged into, when I'd finally woken up.

I checked the number, carefully, looking around to make sure I was actually, finally, in the right place.  Then I knocked, rapping my gauntlet against the wood a few times.

“What?!” Shadow Stalker called from inside.

“It's Hunter!” I called back.  “Can I come in!?”

“I don't know if you're supposed to!” she said.

“Good enough for me,” I replied, pushing down the lever that served as a doorknob, opening the door.

“Should have known you'd take that as a yes,” Shadow Stalker said, as I eased the door closed behind me, cutting off the babble and the stink of the place.

“Probably,” I agreed, looking around.  Her room was obviously different from the one I'd been in, but I couldn't pinpoint how.  Different machines, in different positions, with different labels and warnings.

The bed Shadow Stalker was lying in was identical, though.  A thin, likely uncomfortable mattress with threadbare sheets and a totally sub-par blanket, all on top of a gleaming contrivance with more buttons and tubes than...  I couldn't really think of what.  Either way, it was ridiculous.  If they could spring for a machine-slash-bed that could roll around on motorized wheels, raise and lower, tilt, fold, and had various types of monitoring or drug-dispensing equipment, they could have spent a bit to make it actually comfortable.

“Yo, Earth to Hunter,” Shadow Stalker said, sitting up to snap her fingers.  “You there?”

I blinked, looking up at Shadow Stalker herself.  She looked...  Odd.  Her mask was on, but her costume was gone, replaced with a hospital gown.  It was a weird contrast, and equally weird in that I couldn't get a feel on how she was doing.  What skin I could see – on her arms and neck – was unmarred, but the smooth, dark lines of muscle and tendon didn't say anything about her health.  Between the mask and the blanket over her legs, any other signs of health – or its lack – were hidden.

It was both comforting and worrying, not being able to see how bad things were.

“I'm here,” I said.  “How about you?”

She shrugged, settling back against her pillow.  The bed was folded up, more of a lounger than anything else, and she looked comfortable.  No hitch in her movements, not favoring any kind of injury.

“I'm fine,” she said.  “I had a bit of a scare when I started pissing blood last night, but apparently it was a false alarm.  The doctors did a bunch of tests and shit, but couldn't find any problems.  They want me to stay a while, though.  For observation.”

“Probably my fault,” I said.  “I was doing some thinking about the potion.  The mushroom I used probably concentrated the herb's healing properties.  Blood clotting, analgesic, and stuff to increase blood flow.  Plus some other stuff, to increase metabolism, production of some-”

“Tinker shit,” she said, waving a hand dismissively.  “Whatever.  Get to the point.”

“Not much more to it,” I said.  “The potion cuts pain, rapidly enhances healing, prevents swelling from injuries, but it also gathers up and carries all the waste through your body extra-fast.  Dead blood cells, damaged tissue, whatever.  It's gotta go somewhere.”

“So I ended up pissing it out,” she said.  “Okay.  Not that bad.  Some cramps and a minor scare.  Sure as shit better than a month in the hospital.”

“Well...” I said.  “It's probably not over quite yet.”

“Normally I'd ask if you're trying to be funny, but I think I know the answer by now,” she said, crossing her arms under her chest.  “Out with it.”

“Funny you say that,” I said, reaching a hand around my back and pointing at my ass.  “Not just urine.”

“Great,” she said, deadpan.  “Fucking great.”

“Pretty sure it was designed for me, rather than anyone else” I explained.  “I figure, with my power, I'd normally re-metabolize the waste.  So no side-effects.  Doesn't help you much, though.”

“You're gonna make this up to me, you know,” said said.  I grinned.  “Not like that, idiot.  I'm gonna find something that hurts.”

“I did save you a month in the hospital,” I pointed out.  “You said it yourself.”

She unfolded her arms, gesturing around the room.  “And yet, here I am,” she said.

“Yeah, but not for a month,” I protested.

“Hunter, I'm pissed off, lying in a shitty hospital bed with no phone and nothing to do, and you're telling me I'm going to shit blood some time in the near future.  You are fucking paying me back for this.”

“Fine,” I conceded.  I leveled my finger at her.  “But you're gonna pay me back for paying you back.”

She chuckled.  “Fine.  I can guess what you'll ask for, but don't push it too far.”

“No, this isn't about playing kissy-face.  Though, I mean, if you're up for it...” I trailed off suggestively, but she just stared me down.  “Whatever,” I continued with a shrug.  “No, if you want me to pay you back, my price is that we get the hell out of here.”

“In case you didn't make the connection, I want to be here about as much as I want cancer, MS, and AIDS,” she said.  “But the doctors want me to stay for observation, and there's forms to fill out and shit.  Paperwork.”

“Yeah, and?” I asked.  “Are they gonna stop us, or something?”

She made an annoyed sound.  “We're Protectorate,” she said.  “There's rules.  They might not stop us, but they can still punish us after the fact.  Especially now.  This is an elder dragon event.”

“The elder dragon's gone, though,” I pointed out.  “Dead.”

“That doesn't mean it's over,” she countered.  “Capes come to these from all over the world.  Heroes and villains both.  Even villains, if you get my drift.  It's too delicate to let anyone fuck it up.  This is serious shit, Hunter.”

“And?” I repeated.  “Not like we'll be spying on anyone, or anything like that.  We'll just walk out the front door, on camera and everything.  You know all that shit Rifle's been saying, about how they need us?  Well if so they're sure as hell not gonna throw us under a bus for leaving a hospital a bit early.  Not a very big bus, anyway.”

“It's still gonna be trouble,” she said.

“I don't think it will,” I protested.  “Besides, is it really what you want, being stuck here, staring at the walls with nothing to do?  Because honestly, I can think of about a million better ways to spend my time.”

“Oh fuck you, Hunter.  You used the same lines to get me to fight an elder dragon, which is why I'm here in the first place,” she snapped.  Her tone wasn't that angry, though.  Or at least, not angry at me.

“Am I wrong?” I asked.  “If you tell me, honestly, that you'd rather stay here and wait out any tests and observations they want to do, that's fine.  I'll even stay with you, keep you from going insane with boredom.”

“God, you're a pest,” she said, pulling her pillow out from behind her and throwing it at me.  I caught it easily, put it under my arm.  “Well?” she asked.  “Get out of here.  I'm not gonna change with you staring at me.”

“A pity,” I said.  She threw the blanket next, and I caught it just as easily.

She made a shooing motion, and I grinned, nodding at her.

I left, slipping out the door as quietly as I could, so as not to draw attention.  A fruitless task, with a pillow under one arm and a blanket under the other.  But even looking as odd as I did, nobody said anything.  Few of them even paid me any attention, and when they did it was just a brief, puzzled look before they hurried off to wherever they were going.

A few minutes later, Shadow Stalker phased through the door, appearing beside me.

“You gonna keep those?” she asked.

“Nah,” I said, dropping the pillow and blanket to the floor.  “Let's go.”

We left.  Shadow Stalker proved way more adept than me at navigating the halls, as well as avoiding attention.  We made it out of the hospital easily, slipping out the front door without any comments, or anyone trying to stop us.

As soon as we emerged into the parking lot, I took a deep breath through my nose, then let it out slowly.  Dust still hung in the air, even a day after the Lao Shan had died, rendering the late-afternoon sky hazy, like a thick, gray-tinted fog.

“Wonderful day,” I said.  “So, you're from Boston, right?  Where to?”

“I'm not from here originally,” she said, looking around.  “You know which hospital this is?”

“Boston Medical Center,” I said.  “Closest place to the attack, since Massachusetts General got wrecked by the dragon.”

“Okay, I can work with that,” she said, tapping her mask's lips with her finger.  She stopped, then turned to me.  “Actually, I just thought of a great way to make you pay.”

“Ominous,” I said.  “Tell me more.”

“Oh no,” she said.  “I want you to squirm.”

“Kinky.”  I paused.  “What, no punch?”

“Not this time,” she said.

“Okay, I'm actually starting to get a bit freaked out,” I told her.

“Perfect,” she replied.  “Come on.”

The city had been hit hard by the Lao Shan Lung.  I'd seen that myself.  It had rampaged for hours, cutting a line straight through the city.  I'd watched some of the coverage on a TV in my hospital room, and while the damage was still being tallied, everyone seemed to agree that it would easily run into multiple billions of dollars.  Casualties were less significant, mostly concentrated around the time the dragon had first emerged.  It had moved slowly enough that evacuations weren't much of a problem.

But still, bad as it was the damage had been fairly limited, confined to that one long channel, without the secondary effects other elder dragons could cause.  No storms, like the Kushala Daora could generate, or the fires that followed a Lunastra or Teostra.

So it was a bit surprising to find that public transit was closed down.  No subway.  No buses.  Not even any taxis, though I didn't know if that was linked to the attack, or if they just weren't as common in Boston as they were in New York.

Shadow Stalker didn't seem to mind.  She led us south through dust-choked streets, almost eerily empty of people.  Every business we passed was closed, even corner stores and gas stations.  The fact that we were headed away from the site of the attack meant that there was very little actual damage, but that just made things more creepy.  If I hadn't been able to hear the hum of electricity through power lines, and the occasional engine of a car passing somewhere nearby, I would have sworn there was nobody in the city at all.  Or even in the entire world.

Shadow Stalker was quiet on the way, not speaking, and I was fine with that.  We were out of the hospital, we were moving, and that was enough for me.

As we went, the dust thinned out, looking more like the aftermath of a storm and less like the end of the world.  Bigger buildings and stores became less common too, replaced with blocks of houses, steadily lowering in quality the further south we walked.

Eventually Shadow Stalker turned off the main road and headed down a side-street into an obviously residential area.  She started looking around more, head turning to examine every house we passed.  More than once she took a sudden turn and jogged away from an advancing car.

My stomach started to sink as we slowed down, and her caution reached an even higher level.  I'd been through this before.

“You bitch,” I whispered as we came to stop, hidden behind a fence, out of sight of the road.  “You absolute, total bitch.”

“I told you I'd make you pay,” she said.  There was no other term for her voice than 'gloating'.

“We're going to meet your family,” I said, hoping against hope that I was wrong.

“Bingo,” she said, rolling the word around, relishing it.

She stood up, grabbing me by the bicep, pulling me along behind her.  I could have resisted.  Her power let her get out of almost any situation, but it didn't make her any stronger.  If I'd dug in my heels, there wasn't any way she could have made me move.

I didn't, though.  I just let her drag me behind her as she snuck around the back of a modest two-story house.  It was older, obviously.  There was some obvious damage, in places.  The siding was peeling, and the lawn was patchy where the sun didn't hit it.  Some of the stones in the patio were cracked, and there was grass growing up between them.  A normal family home, in other words.  Something lived in long enough for flaws to become normal, and ignored.

There was a sliding door at the back, and Shadow Stalker let go of my arm to open it.  She hesitated for a second, then walked through.

“I'm home!” she called out.

“Sophia!”  A woman's voice, quickly followed by the woman herself.  She was older, wearing jeans and a button-up blouse.  She looked tired, and the clothes looked just a bit old.  A perfect fit to the house.  Maintenance falling behind, flaws accepted rather than fought.

The woman rushed up to Shadow Stalker.  To Sophia.  “Damn,” I muttered.

They didn't hug, which was a relief.  The woman just put her hands on Shadow Stalker's shoulders, looking her over.  Her eyes caught on the bloodstains, the desert sand, the concrete dust.

“You're alright?” she said.  More a question than a statement.  “I heard you were out on a mission, when it happened.  But we didn't hear from you...”

“Got back in time,” Shadow Stalker said.  “Did search and rescue again.  I'm fine.”

I took note of that 'again'.  Filed it away.

“I'm glad you're okay,” the woman said, stepping back and clasping her hands together in front of her.  She turned to me, her expression awkward.  “You're... Hunter?”  I noted the pause before my cape name.  How unnatural it sounded, coming from her mouth.

I nodded.  “That's me,” I said.

“Do you two...” she stopped.  “Do you want somewhere to... change?  Or, we're going to eat soon?  Oh!  Emma and Taylor are here, up in your room.  They were worried-”

“It's fine, mom,” Shadow Stalker said.  “We won't be staying.”  Relief surged through me.  “Just wanted to stop in, see that you made it through okay.  There's... paperwork and stuff to do.  The mission, and the fight.”

“Oh,” her mother said, something between disappointment and relief in her voice.  “Alright.  Will you be back later, or are you staying in Philadelphia again?”

“Probably staying on base,” Shadow Stalker said.

Her mother nodded.  “I've got to get back to cooking dinner.”  She turned to me again.  “It was nice to meet you... Hunter.”

“You too,” I said.

“So...” I said, once she'd hurried off back to wherever.  “You've got a mom, I see.”

“Am I supposed to get something from that?” Shadow Stalker asked, stepping into the house.  She undid her cloak and swung it off her shoulders, folding it up.

“I am super uncomfortable right now,” I said.

“Good,” she said.  “Come on.”

She walked further into the house.  I sighed, but followed her.

Inside, the place was nicer than I'd expected, given the exterior.  The floors and carpets were clean, pictures hung on the walls, and the furniture wasn't new, but it wasn't obviously old either.  No peeled or faded paint.  The place wasn't perfectly tidy, of course.  We passed a living room, and I could see kids toys scattered around, and an overflowing bin of them shoved up against a wall.  More evidence of family.  A younger sibling, probably.

The stairs to the second floor were in the front hall.  Shadow Stalker stopped there for a second before heading up, leaning against the wall and sticking her head into the kitchen.

“Is Terry here?” she asked.

“He's at work,” the mother replied.  “He should be back soon, if you want to wait for him.”

“Nah,” she replied.  “Just tell him I'm okay.”

“I will.”

Shadow Stalker nodded, then headed upstairs.  Even before we reached the top, I could hear people talking.  Two girls around our age, and a much younger voice, coming from a door near the end of the hall.

“I'm back!” Shadow Stalker called out as she approached, and the voices cut off abruptly.  The door opened a moment later, and the owners of the voices emerged.

I'd been right about the two girls.  They were teenagers, one with shorter red hair, one with longer black hair.  The red-headed girl was undeniably hot, a fact I couldn't help noticing immediately, even as her eyes widened at the sight of me.  Her short sleeveless top and too-tight jeans wouldn't allow it.  She wasn't my type, though.  Too short.  She wouldn't have even come up to my chest.  The dark-haired girl wasn't as pretty.  More of a nerd, if I wanted to be blunt about it.  She had thick glasses and a knit sweater a size too big for her.  It almost prevented me from noticing the way her left arm ended at the elbow, or the scars tracing up the same shoulder to her neck.

“Oh, Hunter,” the redhead said.  She turned to Shadow Stalker.  “Uh, don't know how much I should say...”

“Say what you want, he won't give a shit” Shadow Stalker said carelessly, marching toward them.  She held her arms open, and the redhead virtually sprang forward, squeezing her into a hug.

“God, you stink, Soph,” she said a second later, pushing Shadow Stalker away and wrinkling her nose.  Then she looked down to see the crud that covered her clothes.  “Oh, you're evil!”

Shadow Stalker chuckled.  “Yep,” she said, then looked to the dark-haired girl.  “Hey, Taylor.  Sup?”

“Not much,” Taylor answered carefully, which would make the redhead Emma.  “You said you weren't going to bring him back here.”

Shadow Stalker shrugged.  “Changed my mind,” she said, simply.

“You said he wouldn't want to come,” Taylor added, her tone pointed.

“I didn't,” I said.

Emma mimed surprise.  “He can talk!  Oh, that was rude.  Sorry, Hunter.  Sophia said you weren't smart enough for conversation.”

“Ugh,” I said.  “Ook ook.”

Emma giggled, and Taylor's mouth quirked up at the corner, the first thing remotely like an expression that she'd shown.

Emma shook her arms, sending bits of crusted sand and dust to the carpet.  “Bitch-move aside, I'm glad you're okay,” she told Shadow Stalker.  “When we didn't hear... yeah.”

“Yeah yeah, save the waterworks,” She replied.  “And get out of here for a bit.  Take the rugrat.  I want a bit of private time.  We can catch up more later.”

“Oh?” Emma asked, raising her eyebrows and looking toward me.  She grinned.  “Sure, sure.  Don't let us get in the way.  We'll go help your mom with dinner.”

“God, is that the only thing any of you can think of?” Shadow Stalker asked, putting her fists on her hips.  “Go, you saucy bitches.  Get out of here.”

Emma laughed, but didn't complain, brushing by me as she flounced off down the hall.  Taylor was more sedate, moving to collect a little girl from Shadow Stalker's room before following Emma.  She gave me an appraising look as she went, but didn't say anything.

“Well, guess we shouldn't disappoint their expectations,” I said, once they were gone.

Shadow Stalker responded with a punch to my shoulder.  “Maybe later,” she said.  “Come on.”

She walked into her room, and I followed.  It was... normal.  A twin-sized bed, a bookshelf, a desk with an old laptop on it, closed, and a crowded vanity.  I raised an eyebrow at that.

“Candles?” I asked.  “Pretty girly.”

“Not all of us enjoy smelling like wyvern-shit all day,” she said, moving over to the computer desk.  She pulled out the little rolling chair there, spread her cloak over it – lining down, to keep the chair clean – and sat.

I didn't answer, wandering over to the bed.  The wall above it was covered in pictures.  A few family photos.  More of them had Emma in them.  Shadow Stalker wasn't masked in any of them.  I turned away quickly, moved to sit down on the bed.

“Don't-!” Shadow Stalker shouted, reaching out to me, but it was too late.  I settled to the bed, and she pressed her hand to her forehead.  “Motherfucker,” she snarled.

“It'll wash out,” I told her.  “Nice room, by the way.  At least it's not pink.”

She calmed herself down with an obvious effort of will.  “Don't think you're going to distract me that easily,” she said.  “I mean, you're going to pay for getting my bed dirty-”  I wiggled my eyebrows.  “Fuck, walked right into that,” she muttered.  “Never mind.  Point is, Hunter, we need to talk.”

“Ominous,” I said again.  “Are we breaking up?”

She snorted.  “Fuck no.  If we were breaking up, I wouldn't have brought you to my house, retard.”

“Fair point,” I said.

“Don't be like that,” she said.  “This isn't a fucking execution.  I'm just... being a bit selfish, I guess.”

“That, at least, I can get behind,” I said, then paused.  “If you catch my drift.”

her hand flickered, and a little knife embedded itself in my armor, phasing in just above my collarbone.

“Fair point,” I said again, yanking it out.  A little chunk of armor came with it.  I tossed it back to her, and she caught it easily, flicking her hand and making it disappear as quickly as it had appeared.  “So, being selfish?”

“Yeah,” said.  “You've been saying I should go with what I feel, right?”  I nodded.  “Well, I feel like I want more out of you.  And no, not like that,” she paused.  “At least not yet.  I mean, shit, don't mistake me here, it's been great.”  She paused again, absently lifting a hand to trail her fingers across her mask's lips.  “More than great.  I wouldn't put up with your shit if it wasn't.”

“Fair point,” I said a third time.  “I'm all for this, by the way.  If you want something, don't wait for it, don't bullshit about it.  Just take it, and deal with whatever comes.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice lower, almost fond.  “Yeah, that's part of what I like about you, you know?  So yeah, I want you, and I'm gonna have you.  As more than just a teammate who I can fool around with.”

She reached up to her mask, flicked the clasp, and pulled it over head head.  Then she took hold of her under-mask, but hesitated, looking at me.

“I won't stop you,” I said.  “I won't promise anything, either, but I won't stop you.”

She smiled, half annoyed, half something else.  “I'm not asking for permission,” she said.  “You can say whatever shit you want, but I saw how you looked at me, when I was hurt.  Whatever you felt then, it inspired you to cook up a potion in ten seconds that you'd never even thought about before.  Plus, you followed me here, didn't you?  So don't play hard to get, like this is some fucking huge imposition on you.  Don't bullshit me, Hunter!”

Her voice had risen by the end.  Not to a shout.  That wasn't her.  Her anger was always... not controlled, because she was anything but.  Fierce, maybe.  Focused.  A hissing panther, rather than a roaring lion.

“Yeah, I want you,” I said, spreading my hands.  “We've only been together for a week, and I'm already falling for you.  I won't deny it.  I dunno if it'll work out long-term, and honestly I don't care.  The future can take care of itself.  But I like you a lot.  You're fun, and your attitude... it's great.  It turns me on in so many ways.  I want more, too, and I'll never deny it.”  I reached up to tap at my mask again.  “This stays on, though.  That hasn't changed.  Maybe it will, some day, but the future can take care of that, too.  If you can't be with me as Hunter, well fuck you I guess, and not in the fun way.”

“Not a very romantic declaration,” she said, but she was smiling.

I returned the smile.  “I'm not a romantic of any kind,” I told her.  “You want to make out?  To fight?  You wanna get bloody and hot and wet and whatever else?  Fuck, I'm all about that.  You want sappy word and poetry, find someone else.  Full-fucking-stop.”

She growled at me, reached up and snatched her mask off, then sprung up from her chair, stalking toward me.  She pushed me backward, and I let her, then she lowered herself down onto me, pressing again my armor, the jagged plates digging into her chest, her stomach, her legs.

Her face was right in front of me, no mask.  Her eyes were brown, lighter than I'd expected, not quite gold.  Her lips were full, drawn back from her teeth.  She had high cheekbones, angular, no fat on her anywhere.

“God, you're pretty,” I said.

She leaned down, pushed her lips against mine, hard, then drew back.  “Call me beautiful,” she demanded.

“God, you're beautiful,” I said.

She pressed herself against me again, the kiss going on longer.  She drew back, leaned in again, and I opened my mouth, but she didn't kiss me.  She bit my lip, hard.  “Call me scary,” she growled.

“God, you're scary,” I said.  My heart was beating a mile a minute, and so was hers.

“You-” she bit again.  “Are-” she bit a third time, my throat, hard enough to draw blood.  “Mine!” she growled, low enough that I could feel it all down my body.  “And that's never going to change.  So get used to it.”

I opened my mouth, but she pressed a hand against it for a moment, staring into my eyes.  Then she rolled off me, standing up in one lithe motion.  She swallowed, catching her breath.  I followed her every movement, eyes tracing over her, her legs, her hips, her chest, her hair.

“Now go get clean,” she said.  “We're gonna have dinner with my mom.”

“God, you're evil,” I groaned, letting my head fall back onto her bed.

“You better fucking believe it, bitch,” she said, a grin spreading over her face.  “Now get ready.  If you're good, maybe we can continue this... conversation, later.”

“Yes ma'am,” I said, springing to my feet.  “Which way's the bathroom?”