Eha Farro's flat on Baker Street, Westminster

With a soft pop, Eha appeared on the front step of her flat with a somewhat disgruntled Charms teacher in tow. Catching the reflection of a clock across the street, she realized that it was well past midnight taking them into the 21st, but the information was fleeting. She kept an iron grip on Gale's arm and steered him towards the door, freeing one hand only to dig out her keys.

Somehow, she managed to herd him safely into her flat and lock the door behind them before ushering him into the living room, which was mostly empty. Eha would be the first to admit that her apartment was a little under-furnished. The wide open living room contained only a small couch, a cheap Muggle television, and the tattered old punching bag she used for her morning workouts. Still, at least it was easy to navigate, especially with another person to account for.

Eha pushed Gale towards the couch and finally let him go. She sighed. It was a shame that they'd had to run out on Dolly St. James's big birthday bash, but the way things had been going with that other man -- Chaz, Gale had called him -- it couldn't be helped. Eha was an auror, well, auror-in-training, which meant she couldn't let her date disrupt the peace. Even if a brawl would have been loads of fun.

She toed off her shoes and settled on the arm of the couch, tucking her feet against the smooth leather. She looked to Gale. "Well. That was a disaster. You all right?"

Gale could hardly breathe, and though he was being herded by the arm he hardly realized where it was he was stepping. The entire way from the party to her flat he muttered in a language that so few understood. It was heated--passionate, and over all full of the anger and rage he felt towards the tailor. Possessive. He was being possessive and needed to stop, but couldn't quite come terms with it.

"Fine." He lied, feeling the cold finally shut away and realized they must have gone inside somewhere. His whole body was shaking as if to starve off the bitter wind, and in his feverish shaking he gave a glance about the room.

"Is this where you live?" Going through the motions he tried to keep conversation flowing, afraid of what he might do if he didn't push forward to keep from falling back. "It's pretty empty. You live alone?"

"You live alone?"

"Aye." Eha craned back without unfolding her legs, rescuing a half-drunk bottle of vodka from behind the couch. "Did some traveling right out of school. Got used to having my privacy. Only been living here a couple of months, so I haven't had a reason to clutter it up with extra furniture yet."

She screwed the top off the bottle and took a swig, enjoying the burn on the way down and the tingling that spread to fingers and toes. She'd only had time for one drink at the St. James's party, not nearly enough to be relaxing. It was time to fix that. She passed the bottle over to Gale. "Here. Warm yourself up a bit."

She rolled her shoulders and stretched out like a cat, resting her cheek against the old leather. She did not look at Gale, preferring to stare off into the moonlit corner. If she was honest, she was rather put out with the man. Not about leaving the party, there would always be other parties, but about the fight that had sent them running. Gale called the scruffy-looking man Chaz 'a friend,' but that was obvious bollocks. You didn't go into screaming, trembling rages over 'a friend.'

"So who is he really? That man 'Chaz.'" She kept her voice carefully even, if a wee bit cold. "Your boyfriend? Lover? Someone you jilted?" She took back the bottle for another swig, exhaling through her mouth as she screwed the lid back on. "Would've been nice if you told me you swung that way."

She might have been as cold as Professor Reid in this moment, but the very thought of a woman that kept a bottle of Vodka that close would forever remain legend in the eyes of a blood thirty gypsy. His grandmother warned him of women like that, but his father lived for them. He lived to please them, to pleasure them, and to tease them. But Gale wasn’t the sort. He was nothing like his shadowy sire, other than he was passionate about the world in a way that very few seemed to understand.

Gale didn’t take a hit of the vodka until Eha talked about Chaz, and just hearing his name made him feel a fire all over. How did he explain him? It wasn’t fair, and he knew he was in the wrong. But he couldn’t help it. There were not words for what Chester was, nor was he certain there ever would be. Gale could only tell her what he wasn’t.

“Met him the same night I met you, and again on the streets just a few nights after.” He took another hit before passing the bottle back to her. His buzz carried well over from the party, but the heat that filled his face was of pent up rage—pent of sexual tension, and the desire to shatter glass. He shouldn’t drink any more.

“Not a boyfriend, nor a lover. Jilted? I suppose. And I would have, but…that’s not something you just openly tell someone. Hi, my name is Nightingale, and I bat for the other team.” He moved over the floor slowly coming to stand by the window to watch the city outside a moment, “Even that isn’t entirely true, Eha. My people don’t put labels on it. Drunken fires normally end with wherever you fall. Man or woman. I have no preference.” Gale kept his hands in his pockets as his stone like stance threw up every wall he knew how, “I’ve only been in love once, and that lasted nearly 7 years—10 years ago. I don’t have much experience in this, but…” He turned to face her, and truly got a good look. Was she hurt? She was cold, he knew that, but….

Damn

“Forgive me. I’m sure it would have come up eventually through the night.” He spoke, but coldly so. His voice seemed quiet, and constricted. “Especially when I tell you about Darius.” With the name a smile dawned on his lips, “Who is well, doing fine I suppose. He doesn’t want anyone knowing where he is, or what he’s doing. Just told me to tell you he was alive and fine.”

Gale closed the distance between them, and leaned to put his hands on either side of her so that way he could be close,

“You gonna tell me what you are to him? The truth too. No more lies.” There was a threatening look in the corner of Gale’s silver eye—one that promised her undoing if she meant to use this information against him or against Darius. He was loyal to his kind, and no amount of wide beautiful doe like eyes would undo that sort of oath—no matter how enchanting she was.

When Gale left the couch, Eha slid off her armrest to take his place, sinking into the familiar, overstuffed leather. She watched him pacing, his pale hair and skin catching the light from outside, glinting like a pearl as he rambled about his own sorrid past and twisted tastes. No preference? She gave a rueful little smile.

"Something we have in common then," she said airily as she set the bottle aside, but the comment was soft and possibly lost while Gale's mind burrowed further into his past. He spoke of love lost and her smile faded. She wasn't surprised that he was one of those, the romantic sort. Eha didn't understand romance. It ruined the fun. She hated breaking people's hearts. Hated it.

So no, she wasn't hurt when Gale glanced her way again. She seethed, hiding it behind a cool mask and her buzz. It only broke, momentarily, when he mentioned that name. Darius, oh, Darius. It this mess of a night she'd almost forgotten, he was why she'd agreed to come. She straightened, her heart pounding, suddenly more alert than ever. The sealed bottle rolled from her grasp and sank onto the carpet, ignored.

Darius lived. Gale had spoken to him, in person. He lived. He was fine.

Eha did not move as Gale approached, didn't so much as twitch as he trapped her on the couch, its back taking the full brunt of both their weight. She held his gaze, jaw set, lips pursed. "I never lied," she said, enunciating each word in her purist English. "You never asked. And I don't appreciate the accusation. Not after what you did tonight."

She lifted one black-gloved hand, slowly, so as not to provoke whatever animal he kept reigned inside him. "While you were looking for him, did you hear of the case that marked him for death? The Aaliyah Zaman affair?" She trailed a single leather-clad finger from Gale's temple down the pale line of his jaw, hoping it would distract him from the disgust that laced the little girl's name. "She was six years old when she died. Did you know that? They say he murdered her. He confessed. He did it. He killed Aaliyah Zaman. And I'm the result."

At his neck, her hand curled around his collar, pulling them even closer until she could could smell the drink on his breath, and he on hers. "Do you understand? I owe him everything. He made me. He's as much family to me as anyone else in this world. I would do anything to keep him safe and alive."

Nightingale, knew depression. He knew the ache and the loniless that came with the constant motion, and the fear of being alone. Yet, it was when the bottle hit the floor without little care did he truly feel his heart swell for her. The room was so vacant, and all too familiar. It was one thing to live in a caravan where ones home left with you, but to be on the constant move nothing could be permanent. Nothing could have your impression, nor even the slightest indication to whom it had occupied. Not everyone was as wealthy as the Thorn’s, their money earned in blood and paid to cover up just the same. Gale, had earned a great deal of respect by serving their son, but on the same hand felt the sting of their hands. When Arthur had died, Gale felt as though he had survived the Rapture, and lived only to suffer in hell.

“I never said you did, s'est levé “ He spoke quietly, about the lies, “Just that you should not. I do not trust the truth, nor do I what I read.” His admission had him slip in beside her, and in doing so his arm slipped behind her back to cradle her just where they sat.

Gale enjoyed the touch, and  leaned into her palm like a cat starved for affection. Yet, the talk of the child’s death had been something that he wanted the truth for. He knew Darius couldn’t have, not the young man he knew. His people were murderers but not with such a reason. Children and women were off limits, and it would have been very unlike his people to ever make exceptions.

“I do understand.” He countered her touch with one of his own, though without a glove his thin well kept fingers were cool against her cheek, and his gaze watched intently the path to which his touch tread. Up over her temple he pushed a few strands of her hair behind her ear.

“I heard that. I didn’t believe it. I still don’t. My father loved his people, like the air he breathed, and my sire was not a man to trust so openly. He would not have allowed anyone with such an intent around me. And the old crow had his ways of knowing just how a man’s heart worked. Something I certainly didn’t pick up on.” He met her eyes again with his own, and studied her further.

“I did not think the child survived though. I suppose I have proof no?” This thumb traced over the corner of her mouth, and brushed over her petal soft lips. “He is well, I suppose. I worry still. I ordered dinner, and he devoured it. But I do not think it was just the food he was starved for.” Gale cleared his throat realizing how warm the room became, and quickly diverted his gaze.

“We knew each other as children. He is of course many years older than I am, but when we camped together he included me often in their games. Even stuck up for me.” Gale grinned at the thought, “I was tormented growing up. Not with such horrid intent, but they still liked to call me names.” He laughed lightly leaning back on the couch, but sat up again when he felt the array of weapons press into his back.

“So how long do you plan to stick around this time Aaliyah?”

Strange how such a tiny man could be comforting. Eha was still rather miffed with him, so she didn't lean into the embrace, though she didn't push his arm away either. Her fingers uncurled from his clothes and she closed her eyes, trying to pull together a picture of what Gale described. Darius, alive but starved for much. Was he still as she had known him? Her memories of that time were so distant and broken, splintered by early childhood and the charm she'd shattered to unearth them.  She recalled his voice and his touch more than his face. If only she could get a better grasp...

"So, how long do you plan to stick around this time Aaliyah?"

With that one word, everything changed.

The sound of shattering glass wasn't real. It lived in Eha's imagination. Her pupils turned to pin-pricks. Her hand fisted in Gale’s clothes, tightening the cloth around his throat. She snarled, “That is not my name.”

Then she was on her feet and hauling Gale with her. She slammed him against the wall, missing the television by mere inches. Her hands clutched his collar bone, threatening to strangle or break, whichever came first.

“I’m not her! I am not that beast’s daughter, I can’t be I…I…” Memories shattered through her anger, sending her mind into a tailspin. Sweltering nights in a lonely home jousted with the cold and crowded halls of Drumstrang. Grandma Farro’s folk tales struggled for dominance with a woman reading Arabic in bed. Her father’s laughter melted into Darius's whispers, soothing her to sleep and promising that everything would be better in the morning.

Her grip faltered. She wanted, needed to punch something. But not Gale. Not for this. “I’m not going anywhere. How could I? I…I’ve got a family, a real family, like he promised. Papi, Mama, my brother. They brought me here, adopted me, gave me a home. I could never leave them. They love me.”

And I love them. It was not a thought to which she could give a voice. She took a deep breath, trying to reign her emotions back under control. It didn’t work. The very suggestion that she would turn on her family, as that man had, sparked new anger that only fed the frustration she’d been harboring since the fight began.

“Is that what you do? Steal another’s love and disappear? Is that what you did to your ‘Chaz’? What you intended to do to me?” In the back of her mind Eha knew the words were cruel, but she couldn’t stop them. Their edges were sharpened by disgust and tempered with misdirected anger. “Sorry, but I’m not enough of a romantic sap to fall for such things.”

There was something about Eha, that Gale found comforting and familiar. Even when her walls crumbled around his feet, he noticed how badly he wanted to be with her—near her. He marveled at the thoughts that passed beyond what her beautiful eyes could show, and wanted very badly to ask. His hand came to brush a strand of her hair behind her ear, to keep it from her face so that he could see her. His thumb brushed along her brow, but upon the dawning hatred he felt his heart go to his chest as his back went to the wall.

I’m not her! I am not that beast’s daughter, I can’t be I...I…

The memories that shattered through her anger, also made Nightingale regret his wording. A part of him wished he could take back the name he called her, the person she most certainly was not. He of all people knew that just because they were born with one sin did not mean they were condemned for all of eternity. However, on the other hand he knew well that not accepting who you truly were could be your undoing. He was given his second chance, she too could have that.

I’m not going anywhere. How could I? I…I’ve got a family, a real family, like he promised. Papi, Mama, my brother. They brought me here, adopted me, gave me a home. I could never leave them. They love me.

“No one said anything about leaving, Eha. I just asked if you planned on staying. You don’t have to ever run again.” He brought his hands up to touch her shoulders gently, in hopes to ease her back from the grip she had on him. The walls were closing in, and despite his name—Nightingale, wasn’t a bird that liked to be caged.

Is that what you do? Steal another’s love and disappear? Is that what you did to your ‘Chaz’? What you intended to do to me?

With that he narrowed his eye on her, the silver glinting in the light like a bit of lighting before he puffed air through his teeth, “Excuse me? You are sorry you didn’t fall for such things? What the hell does that mean? And for the record. I’ve not had time to win anyone’s affections.” He pushed her back, removing his earrings and bracelets around his wrists.

“You know what. You want to point fingers like that, Yeah. I did use you. I planned on it. I planned on compressing who I was so I could have another selfish dream of that same thing you are so desperate to protect—A family. I want children of my own. Something clearly I can’t do with another man, Miss Farro.” Using his Professor voice, Gale made sure to keep the formalities.

“I thought to myself, there goes someone really special, maybe she can be the one.” His words came out like a hiss, as he put his foot down over hers long enough to break her balance and make sure their positions shifted. Now it was she who had her back to the wall, and he the wolf breathing hot air down her throat.

“I met him the same night I met you, but it was never a competition, Ma Petite. It’s just how I am. And if you want to throw your stones, Madam, go ahead.”

Eha's train of thought barreled head-long into a brick wall, scattering all of her misplaced anger. She stared at Gale in disbelief, mouthing the words a few times before they finally clicked. "Children...me?"

She laughed, the fight going straight out of her. It was not a pleasant sound, more like a broken doll left in an attic to rust. She sank back against the wall, sliding down until Gale would have no choice but to either prop her up or let her drop. All the while she shook her head, completely stunned. "Mad. You're mad. To think that I'd be suitable -- that I'd be capable -- to even consider--!"

She rolled out of his grip, putting some distance between them, and stumbled over her own bare feet. Catching her balance, her hands moved on instinct to brace her stomach, holding off nausea. To imagine a life growing beneath those hands, a thing inside her, a person...

"I'm not drunk enough for this," she declared and returned to the couch while pulling the black leather belt from her now over-sensitive midsection. She retrieved the bottle of vodka and sank down the back of the furniture onto the floor, not caring how her skirt fell back almost to the point of indecency. She fumbled to unscrew the cap, which kept slipping on her gloves, and muttered half to Gale and half to herself in a tipsy haze of alcohol, bewilderment, and the emptiness left from released anger.

"God's saints, what am I suppose to say to that? The very thought. Me, with children. I'm in no way suitable, hell, I'm barely older than some of your students and oh for heaven's sakes..."

She cursed the stubborn bottle in Russian and stripped the glove off her right hand with her teeth, baring the scars she'd kept hidden up to now. From the tip of her fingers to the start of her wrist, the skin was bone-white and smooth as polished glass. The edges where this met her natural color were puckered and twisted, save for those at the wrist, which were jagged like knife wounds.

Eha rolled fingers across her bare palm, frowning at the marks she'd lived with all her life. She turned her palm towards Gale so he could clearly see. "Look at me, Gale. Just...look.  I'm not...special. I don't even know who I am half the time. Tell me you're not desperate enough that you'd take a child from a broken mess like me."

Gale let her stumble about, but he kept close while at the same time giving her space. He wouldn't let her fall, and he certainly wouldn't allow her to put herself down like that. Like a shadow he followed, feeling already a little regretful of his words. He didn't want to make her sound like she was just going to be the womb that carried a child, no. Gale replayed that night over and over in his mind, seeing her dark eyes like something out of a memory. Her name written across his heart, from years before.

"I'm sorry," He whispered taking a seat beside her in the floor, looking at the wrist that was offered, "I just don't see anything wrong with you. Even this," He touched the back of her hand where she offered and brushed a gentle kiss over the scar, "And it's not desperation Eha...you make me it sound like I was going to just pay you to have a baby...and then leave with it? No. It's just an expression. I mean...isn't that what most men look for in a woman? They see them, get filled with desire to be with them, bed them, and that is what comes from it no?" Jesus Christ, Nightingale, will you just stop talking.

"I think you are very special, and I'm sorry for ruining your night out. If you would like I'll happily cook you dinner?" He slipped his arm around her back, propping her up to support her should she just wish to fall over, "Or leave...I suppose I keep putting my foot in my mouth."

Eha cringed at the kiss, her fingers curling instinctively towards her palm but not quite closing over the scar. She'd been sensitive about the marks even before she'd known what they meant, back when the orphanage assumed she'd fallen on a hot stove. People stared and questioned, it wasn't normal. The gentleness, though. That soothed. So she didn't close her hand all the way and didn't draw it back until she remembered the bottle she'd been trying to open in the first place.

She chuckled at Gale's rambling, slipping her hand back to the bottleneck. "And you said you didn't have a preference. I doubt there's a straight man in the world who thinks like that.  And Lord knows I would't want to bed him if he did." She finally got a grip on the bottle cap, twisting it off as Gale settled beside her. When his arm went around her back, she didn't try to pull away. "Suppose it doesn't matter. Besides, there wouldn't have been a night out if you hadn't called..."

She trailed off, staring at the open bottle and the bare hand that surrounded it. Her thoughts swam indistinctly but not unpleasantly before settling on a solid decision.

"I don't want to sleep with you anymore," she said deliberately, and kept her straight face for a full five seconds before dissolving into a soft smile. "But dinner sounds lovely. If you don't mind working with leftovers and a bit of wilted salad." She took a long swig of the vodka and enjoyed the burn all the way down before offering the bottle to Gale. "After that, let's find some silly Muggle thing on telly and drink until it makes sense. That'll be fun."