This is going to be crap barely passable. It's stream-of-consciousness. I don't do stream-of-consciousness. Plus it's incomplete. Think of it as a scribble, nothing more.

I have no idea where this is going, what's going on, who these people are, what they want. This is the exact opposite of how I write. What do they want? Why are they doing this? What's going on?

Let's see if we can find out together.



Callan wove through the bar, people parting way before him with but a thought. After he passed, they floated back together, oblivious to his presence. He wanted to be Forgotten tonight, wandering as he searched for her.

He spied her leaving the washroom. A spot of concentration, and she dropped her pursette as he followed, allowing him to pick it up just as she turned.

"Oh, thank you! It's so crowded in here, someone must have jostled it." She blushed at her white lie.

"It was nothing. Always happy to help. It's quite a party, isn't it?" He kept his voice low and soft.

"What was that?" She leaned in. "I can't believe how loud that band is!"

"I said 'It was nothing.' I'm Cal." Now close enough, his eyes Dazzled her. He expended some will to Project his words so she heard him in spite of the sudden guitar solo.

"I'm Sian. I ... uh ... was thinking about leaving soon. The noise is giving me a headache. Want to catch a coffee somewhere?"

"It would be my pleasure and honour, Sian. I'm parked out front, or did you drive?"

She shook her head, auburn tresses echoing her motion down past her shoulder. "I came with friends, but they were getting blitzed at the bar. They won't miss me."

===

In the quiet of the car, Callan allowed his Senses to rise again. The chaos at the party made him nervous. For his own sake, he had to dull his Senses, to keep them in tighter check than was safe. Now, her scents teased him, the soft sigh of her silk dress on the leather seats thrilled him. Off the gloss of polished burlwood and gleaming metal accents, he took in her silhouette.

She was perfect.

"So where are we headed?" Her voice had a slight lilt, a clipped quality.

Callan tried to place her vestigial accent. "I know one place that's pretty quiet. I could use some quiet after that."

"You won't get a fight out of me."

He smiled, tight and dark.

===

She leaned back in her seat and stretched, drawing the black silk of her dress close around her lithe form. As she lowered her arms, she stole a glance at him.

Callan continued to swirl the cognac in his hand. Perhaps an ostentatious gesture, he studied the whorls, trying to Discern any other eddies in the cup besides the one his nature caused. Reflected off the brass rail, her flirting didn't escape him, but he gave no reaction.

"So, tell me about yourself, Cal." She let his name purr slightly.

"Not much to say, really. I'm a Client Interaction Specialist, but that's a fancy term for traveling salesman."

"Sounds better than what I do. I'm a teller. That's a fancy term for a teller." She giggled, raising the sifter to cover her mouth.

"We all do something that needs doing, Sian. Else, someone wouldn't pay us for it." He shrugged.

She nodded, then took a sip of her brandy. "So tell me, do you think I'm pretty?"

"Very much so."

"I was beginning to wonder. You're not oogling me like a side of beef."

"No, I think you're worth respect, time. You seem intelligent, worldly. I think there's far more to you than simply being pleasing to the eye."

"Bet you say that to all the girls."

"Only the ones who deserve it."

"Liar." The smile on her face belied her word. "You're not too bad either, and you know it. I bet you never have to spend a night alone."

His eyes widened in mock surprise. "I don't recall saying anything about how I spend the night..."

Her eyes fell slightly, her smile faded a bit. "You don't want to?"

===

The hotel room overlooked the bay. The lights of the airport blinked in the distance, reflected and toyed with by the intervening water. They left the blinds open during, and now spooned together on the bed, both relaxing to the vista.

She drew his arm over her and shivered. "Do you ever get just a chill? Like someone was staring at you?"

He whispered in her ear, "I would imagine you get stared at all too often."

She smiled a touch. "It's not that. Those stares I can handle. I know what they want, and I know how to deal with them."

"Like me?"

"You? You're different. You're so ... you're just different. I don't know how to say it."