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Mallory just stares up at Lance, his face turning red. "You are having a laugh at my expense, mon ami. You cannot know any such thing just from chatting with me." Now if only Mallory could keep himself from reacting like an awkward twelve year old. "All the same, I should like to meet your friends sometime. If they are all half so interesting as you, I am sure to like them."

I sighed, half wishing that someone would notice that I was standing only a few feet in back of Lance, hearing everything. Not that the conversation over "players" was not interesting, it was, but some things are more fun when you are involved. I passed Lance and Mallory, who seemed to still be argueing, sort of. I walked toward Lillith, who was making her way to one of the, let's just say, less pleasent bathrooms. It had been used by every creature to enter the house, seeing as Ms. Alexia is not one to put up with a messy vampire. I can't blame her. "Lillith," I smiled gingerly, "why don't you use mine? It's not a spa, but it is much more pleasent than what is to come in there." I hoped to get to know her better. Dusk was never around anymore, and any of the few friends I had before the war were far out of touch now.

Franky nodded. "Indeed I have. You are right, my master is most likely dead. I will not become one of the dead, I vowed not to. I declare myself as such if I enter this battle alone. I will follow you." He bowed and came back up. Expression stony.

Al nodded “I’m glade that you see it my way, Do you wish to spend some time discussion the evacuation plan?” She gave him the smallest of smiles and turned around walking back to Nathaniel’s desk leaving the door wide open behind her. She shuffled threw the maps and note she had been working on and muttered something about time not being on their side.

Mallory took a deep breath, fully intending to give clearing his mind a try. Then that breath escaped him in a startled, incoherent sound as Lance lifted him as though he weighed but an ounce. The little spin just made Mallory cling desperately to Lance... until he realized he was clinging desperately to Lance. Flustered and quite pink from the neck up, Mallory finally just laughs as Lance sits down. "Pretend you are not here! I could as easily pretend there is no floor or ceiling. You are very difficult to ignore, mon ami." Well, at least he had managed to actually speak. And he was still held against the same bare chest that had halted his ability to speak before. Well, there was an improvement at least. And why exactly was he letting Lance carry him about and hold him close like this? Mallory allowed himself to relax against Lance and answered this mental challenge with a simple why not?

"I had better or you may tease me until I resemble a cooked lobster. I do not think red is my color, monsieur." Mallory looked up to the clock when Lance mentioned that time had flown. "Is there something the matter? Have you somewhere you need to be?" Mallory sits up straighter. Of course, he should likely vacate Lance's lap also. Lance had picked him up before he could even think to react, but that was no excuse for him to stay there like a besotted fool. Embarrassed all over again, Mallory slides out of Lance's lap.

"I suppose I should consider going to bed as well." Mallory says to himself once Lance has left the room. Absently he touched his cheek where Lance had kissed him goodnight. What an interesting individual! Mallory could honestly say he'd never met anyone quite like Lance. A moment later, Mallory mentally shook himself out of his reverie and made his way upstairs to his room. He slipped in to see his father still sprawled in a chair, one foot propped on the bed and the book he had been reading lying open on his chest. Mallory immediately recognized the book as one of his own and he quickly strode over and snatched it up, embarrassed by his choice of reading material. Mallory hid the romance novel with the few others he had squirreled away. "Really, mon père. You detest this sort of book. I think you dig through my things just to fluster me."

Having woken somewhat as Mallory bustled around, Alphonse mumbled a response. "The only books we have are yours, mon fils. And I was incredibly bored." Alphonse promptly yawned upon finishing this statement then cracked open his eyes to see the clock. "It is not very late. I expected your new beau might still be entertaining you." Alphonse watches his son with a slight smile.

Predictably, Mallory flushed red as he whipped around to stare at his father in surprise. "Lance is not my beau. I don't know what Franky told you-"

"Not a thing, actually. Perhaps I ought to ask him all about it." Alphonse smiled wider and chuckled as Mallory groaned in frustration, probably wanting to kick himself. "Come now, calm down, won't you? I meant no harm by it. I am only glad to see you show an interest; it's only healthy for a boy your age. You won't be very happy trying to pretend you are immune to hormones."

Mallory huffed in annoyance and grabbed some gray cotton pajama pants and a sleeveless white tee. "Since when does it matter to you whether I am happy?" He asked a bit more bitterly than he had truly intended.

"Since just after it ceased to matter to you whether I did care or not. And I realized I'd raised a fine young man in spite of myself who wanted nothing to do with me. Turnabout is fair play, I suppose. But that was a rhetorical question, non?" Alphonse smiles wryly.

Mallory gives his father a strange look. Normally the man answered flippantly and as though Mallory had no cause for grievance. Tonight Alphonse seemed a bit... depressed. Try as he might to ignore it, Mallory remembered his feeling as he waited by the roof door for Lillith. Mallory crossed over to Alphonse and kissed his father's forehead. "Get in bed, papa. Sleeping in a chair is no good for you. I want a shower, then maybe we pretend we are family and actually chat a bit, oui?"

Mallory has his shower, a befuddled Alphonse actually does as he's told and father and son lie in their respective beds speaking softly to one another. Sometimes about important, even hurtful things but just as often on trivial matters.

Al examined the map. "That could work.” She nodded taking a mental note of the new rout. "We will depart tomorrow evening." She said and stacked the papers up. She took a sticky note and scribbled down a letter for Nathaniel to find if he ever came home. It read,
Dear Nathaniel,
I have abandoned the house for a new safe haven; everyone now seeks refuge in Bunker Five.
Truly yours,
Alexia.
Her hand writing was clear and curvy, it was almost like the text from a machine. "I'll see you tomorrow Franky." She said and hurried him out off the office so that she could lock the door before she went down to her room for bedtime. Once in her room she took her hair down and slipped on a short cream colored nightgown, and a pair of long sheer stockings toped with lace. After she was dressed she brushed her hair and washed her face carefully. "Good night." She whispered to herself and crawled into her huge bed. Everything matched, her clothing and skin color the blankets and pillows were all the same shade of white cream, but her jet black hair and faint blushing cheek stood out from the pale surroundings in an almost surreal way.


Lance Slipped into bed with his companions. Next to him lay Nate and Johnny. "Good night. " Each of them whispered But Lance's mind was crowded with his thoughts about Mal. Within seconds Johnny was in his arms, and Mal was far gone. Lance was easily distracted especially by Any of his boys.