I packed last night, so once my shift is over all I have to do is grab my bag and head down the hall. I don't even bother getting changed out of my uniform. I know Bian will be at the front desk, working on a crossword. I think she knows I could disappear at any given time. I think she knows more is up with me than my mutism.

So, I'll pass her the note I wrote that says I need to leave for a while. And then I'll just never come back. If she needs me to stay and help with anything for a couple of hours, I can do that too. I owe her that much. Besides, I ran all over town last night to throw any stalkers off my scent.

Which... totally didn't work. Like, not at all. 

I come to an abrupt halt as I enter the lobby. The Reaper is there, sitting in a blue wingback chair, his legs crossed, reading yesterday's copy of the Sanford Citizen. He looks effortlessly cool with his black pants and polished brogues and black button-up shirt. The sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, his tattoos flowing from beneath the fabric.

His gaze collides with mine and does not let go.

Fuck. 

I let my bag slide from my shoulder and drop on the floor next to the front desk with a sad little thud. I look at Bian, her pen hovering over the crossword as she works out the problem before her. "You have a visitor," she says, without looking up.

But it's then that I realize she doesn't mean the Reaper.

In all the mayhem, I totally forgot it's Tuesday. Tuesday is Scrabble Day.

Andy stands up from a seat on the other side of the lobby, a wide grin on his face. His hands are clutched around the ceramic pot of what looks like a rubber plant. He extends it toward me like some kind of ancient offering. Behind him, the Scrabble board is already set up on the round oak table next to the unlit hearth.

Oh my God this is so awkward. Why is this so awkward. 

I try not to look at the Reaper but I feel his eyes in the periphery, boring into my skull like tiny drills. Andy doesn't even flick his gaze in Ashen's direction. This is probably a good time to mention that Andy Cartwright is a detective with the local police department, but not a very observant one.

I give Andy the brightest smile I can manage and walk toward him.

"It's a peace lily," Andy says, thrusting the plant in my direction as I draw to a halt. "Sergeant Angel says it helps him think and oxygenates the room... or something."

I smile a little wider and put my hand over my heart in a gesture of thanks. I realize there are pink marks visible on my arm where the werewolf bite is still healing, but Andy doesn't notice, or if he does he makes no comment. I chance a look over at Ashen whose gaze follows the movement of my arm with the acuity of a falcon hunting a pheasant. He watches as I lower it, then flicks his gaze back up to mine. His expression is unreadable. When I narrow my eyes at him he tilts his head, some kind of assessment of my simmering fury. I swallow down a sudden burst of nerves and turn away to take the plant from Andy's hands, placing it down on the hearth.

I settle in my chair at the table and fold my hands in my lap like the most prim and proper, well-bred vampire you've ever seen. Over the last several months, our weekly Scrabble game has been my main source of entertainment. I know, I know. You're asking yourself, Why is a siren-slash-vampire who knows all the lyrics to WAP sitting around on a Tuesday night playing Scrabble with a small town detective?  Well, for one thing, it's a great source of information. Exhibit A, the rowdy wedding where Mr. Bates was caught up in a minor altercation. Such gossip is useful information for a vampire that hunts douchebags to live.

Also, I'm really fucking bored, and Scrabble is fun.

So I'm letting myself be courted... By the inept but sweet, mustachioed detective Cartwright...

...With the power of peace lilies and Scrabble...

...Scrabble.

Jesus H. Christ. I definitely need to get out of Sanford.

As we start to play, Andy talks about the latest gossip at the station, which isn't much today. Mr. Staker's swan escaped. There was some graffiti in the town square. Some teenage hoodies were arrested and will probably be cleaning the spray-painted bricks with toothbrushes for the next few weeks of their summer break.

I smile and nod at all the right places as we lay down a few words on the board. I'm getting a little more comfortable with Ashen's presence in the room, simply because he hasn't killed me yet. But by comfortable I mean I'm only ninety percent ready to shit my pants, down from the ninety-nine percent of ten minutes ago. I steal glances at him and every time I do, he's feigned interest in his paper. Except for this time. We lock eyes and I can't make myself look away.

"You know," Andy begins, and I startle so viciously that my knee slams into the underside of the table. "You okay? Jeez, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to scare you," he says, patting my hand. I glance over at Ashen whose eyes are still fixed to mine as though we've been soldered together. When I look back at Andy, he hasn't even noticed our wordless exchange.

Christ, he is a bit dim, bless him. Sweet, but dim.

"There is one unusual thing that happened," Andy continues as he places the word 'average' on the board. "A man came into the station last night claiming he saw a demon with a sword on fire in the alley behind Cheese Louise."

I raise my eyebrows in my best Oh really? look as I put the word 'fuck' down on the board. What? We play with swears. And it makes Andy laugh...

...Every. Single. Time.

Andy smirks at my word and places 'heart' on the board. I scowl at the game until I realize what my face is doing. When Andy looks up I put on my shiniest smile mask. "Yeah, he came in claiming he was minding his own business one moment, and the next he woke up in the alley with a sword-wielding smoke demon staring down at him with fiery eyes."

The Reaper snorts a laugh that he covers with a cough. I glance over, but he's snapped his newspaper up like a shield.

I put the word 'off 'on the board.

Andy snickers as he puts 'twat' into the game. "Yeah, well. Looks like he had a good bash to the head, so we took him into hospital. Must have been some dream. But you know what they say about eating cheese Louise before bed," he says with a wink. He laughs as though it's a genuinely clever joke and I give an encouraging smile. When I glance at Ashen his eye is poking out at me from the edge of his paper. I see the frown in the curve of his mouth and realize he's confused.

Finally, I get to put my serendipitous word down on the board. 'Reaper'.

Fuck off, Reaper. 

Andy is busy tallying points and I point down at the board as I glare at Ashen, mouthing the words with every jam of my finger. Fuck. Off. Reaper.

His eyes narrow at me, and I mouth them over and over again until Andy looks up. I give a sweet smile in return.

"Haha, look at that! Fuck off, reaper. Yeah, not today, Skeletor! Right Lu?"

I nod enthusiastically.

Andy starts singing and I grit my teeth beneath my smile. "We'll be able to fly, don't fear the reaper, Baby, I'm your maaaaan."

I hear Bian snort behind the counter and I die a little on the inside. When I look at the Reaper he's scowling daggers at me.

After the little interlude of off-key song, we finish our game and then play another. When it's finally time for Andy to leave, he dances around the question of asking me out on a proper date, as he's done for the last three visits. I somehow manage to dodge the impending question without uttering a word, as I always do, and I thank him again for the random-ass plant with a point and a hand over my heart. I even give him a kiss on the cheek. His mustache brushes my skin. He gives me the most genuine, bashful smile. And this right here is why I like him. He's sincere. He's sweet. He's thoughtful.