Tristan, sprawled in a beanbag, frowns at a semi-translucent sheet of polymer. Seen in reverse from the back, the high-tech paper has a large grid on it, and a list of numbered sentences. Tristan's gnawing absently on the tip of a polymer stylus, putting little puncture marks into the shaft with one fang, as he narrows his eyes at the sheet.

Miki enters the library through the main door, carrying what is obviously a small library book-- no ordinary book is subjected to the humiliation of a hardback pale-green shiny binding-- under his arm. He goes directly towards the librarian's desk, checks when he sees that no one is there, and then scans the room. His eyes narrow upon seeing Tristan, but he doesn't make any other particular reaction. Instead, he goes to the book return and places the offensively-colored book carefully in it, as if returning a treasure to its proper place.

The door opens again, and Ren blows in, coat swirling about his legs with a well-timed gust of wind. He stands there a moment as the door shuts behind him, and breaks into a particularly bright and shining grin as he takes in the current population of the library. "Hey, check it out, twoa my favourite guys in the same place!" he remarks, by way of greeting. So much for quiet in the library.

Tristan waggles his stylus in greeting at Miki, although he grins when he looks from behind the polymer sheet to see Ren. "Hey, what's goin' on. Say, either of you guys know a four-letter word for 'snatch'?"

Miki turns around, putting his back to the librarian's desk as the door opens again. He declines to answer Tristan, instead looking over at Ren murmuring, "Good evening," in a decidedly neutral tone of voice. He glances over at the basement door, which remains closed at the moment.

Serendipity smirks at Tristan. "Hundreds of 'em. Cunt, twat, quim, muff..." He winks at the vampire and adds, "...grab." He blows Miki a kiss, replying, "Evening, gorgeous. Haven't seen you in a while. Miss me?"

Tristan squints at his crossword. "Oh yeah. Grab." He writes it into the appropriate little boxes, the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. When he's done, one of the numbered sentences flashes from black to green (to match several others that are already green) and a little chime plays. "Bright. So, yeah, hi, and stuff."

Miki tilts his head to one side, considering Ren's question, it seems. "It has not been that long," he answers, one corner of his mouth tucking back. He pushes himself away from the librarian's desk, where he has been leaning, and walks over towards Tristan. He stops a few paces away from the vampire and says, "I have been thinking about what you asked. I think it would be possible, to call such a ghost. The spell of the Witch of Endor." His tone is perfectly neutral; imparting information. Well, perhaps it is a little challenging.

Serendipity gives Miki a reproachful, soulful look. "It's been -ages-," he replies, and wanders over to join the pair of them.

Tristan blinks up at Miki, his mouth open in mid-chomp upon the stylus. "Uh, what? Okay, wait, remind me, what did I ask?"

"Whether one can see a vampire's ghost," Miki replies.

Serendipity's brows lift, as he glances from one of them to the other. "Vampires have ghosts?" he asks, "Like... from being killed the first time, or the second time?"

Tristan sits up, the beanbag rustling, his eyes sharp now and focused on Miki. He narrows his gaze, though, and glances at Ren, a smirk playing on his thin lips. "Wait a minute. Hold on. You said you've never seen a vampire ghost. Don't you be bullshittin a bullshitter, now." He shoots Ren a sideways glance plainly meant to collaborate with him in seeing through Miki's clever ruse.

Miki's eyes narrow. "I explained that. To kill a vampire, it is like doing the calling. It is already dead, the spirit goes free, it does not, does not linger as a ghost does. It has already done that. But the spell I talked of, it is different, it calls back any dead. So, if you wanted to see a vampire's ghost, you would have to get someone to do that for you. Vampire ghosts, they do not stay of themselves." He shrugs, lifting his chin in a careless, disdainful gesture. "But it does not matter. You asked, and it is not my business why or whether you believe me."

Serendipity studies Miklos a moment -- oh, such a hardship -- and then looks to Tristan, giving the vampire a shrug. "Sounds reasonable t' me, if it drags people back... only, if =I= was restin' in peace, not sure I'd be exactly =thrilled= 'bout bein' dragged out for a chat..."

Tristan also studies Miki, closely, the smirk remaining, but it's only surface; his eyes are calculating, perhaps afraid, down deep. "Yeah," he says, hitching the smirk up a notch by force of will. "Yeah, okay. So, say, if you could actually do that spell, what would I need to do t'convince you ta do it for me?"

Miki blinks, startlement flashing across his face-- clearly, he had not anticipated such a request (apparently, he is not one to think ahead). "I know the spell," he says cautiously. "It is easy to learn, but it is hard to do. I do not think I could call back a vampire, it must be difficult, like a ghost that has been, you know, exorcised." He folds his arms and looks down at the floor for a moment. "Anderja might be able to, though. With my help."

Tristan nods, pulling at his chin in a fine parody of a covetous moneylender. "I see, I see," he says wisely. "So if I want to have a crack at the Mystery of the Great Beyond, as relates to the living-impaired, I'll hafta appease you -and-, uh, Anderja. Who's that again? He's yer brother, right? Or something."

"My brother," Miki replies shortly, looking more and more annoyed. "I told you this because you *asked,*" he adds hotly. "You can ask someone else to do the spell, if you worry so much about payment. Everyone who does magic knows of it, it is old, older than the Witch of Endor, and lots of people know it!" He half spins away on his heel, clearly about to stalk off.

"Touch-ee," Tristan remarks, grinning a genuine if slightly insane grin. "What spell y' talking about? Last I heard, we were talkin about the Witch of Endor. What's this older one? Anyway, I don't -know- anybody else who does magic in this lightforsaken town." The fact that he's just remember somebody who does dawns on his face, but he promptly wipes the expression away.

Miki pauses long enough to eye Tristan with disfavor. "It is called the spell of the Witch of Endor because it is in the Bible that way. But it is older than that-- calling up the spirits of the dead is an old, old spell. And I know..." He pauses, counting in his head. "At least three other people who do magic here. There are more probably."

Tristan grunts. "Oh. The Bible. Handbook of the Damned. Right." He quirks an eyebrow at Miki. "Don't tell anybody that I said this, but I really didn't mean no offense t'you about payment. S'just the way I previously known things t'be done, yannow? And seein' as a homeless kid in a city owns more'n I do right now, if y'want filthy lucre for the job, I'm shit outta luck."

Miki shrugs his trademark 'irritating teenager' shrug. "You would have to talk to Anderja, we do not usually take money any way. But I think he might do it because, you know, no one else has. It would be something worth doing. But perhaps you should talk to him."

"Perhaps I should," Tristan says, mimicking (unconsciously?) Miki's speech cadence. "If Anderja would talk to me. --Hey, do you realize you don't use any contractions?"

"What?" Miki asks, looking utterly thrown by the sudden change of subject. "Any what?"

"Contractions!" Tristan's obviously enjoying Miki's confusion. "You know, like don't, or won't, or can't, or shouldn't...Those are all pretty negative, how about I'm, I've, you've, woulda, shoulda, or coulda! Y'speak English real well, but I gotta say I'm pretty surprised that y'don't use 'em."

"They sound funny," says Miki sulkily. "Anyway, I can use them. Sometimes."

Tristan grins sharply. "Hey, fine by me, I can't speak a word of Hungarian. Except 'goulash'."

Miki looks confused. "Goul... ash? What is that?"

Tristan shrugs. "Food, I think." He shudders delicately. "Uh, anyway. Like I was sayin, if y'guys'll do it, that's fine. If not, that's fine too. If y'want payment for it, just make it somethin' I can actually give ya, which," he glances down at his threadbare self, bemusedly, "at the moment, ain't much."

"I could ask Anderja," says Miki, absently twisting his fingers in the fabric of his sleeves. "I will tell him, but he might want to talk to you. I do not know." He looks down at his hands and frowns slightly, rubbing his fingertips over his forearm. "It might be--" he starts to say, then bites his lip.

Tristan waits for Miki to finish his thought, staring at him with eyebrows raised. If he breathed, his breath would no doubt be bated.

Miki glances up at Tristan, reserved and tense. Then he looks away. "I mean, it is blood magic, to sing up the dead." He doesn't look back at Tristan, but instead down at his hand gripping his arm. "Would that... That would not be, be a problem, right?"

Tristan's lips twitch. He glances at Ren. "Nah, not a problem. Only a problem if I haven't tasted human blood in awhile, and wouldn't you know it, folks here are real generous with it."

Serendipity arches a brow slightly at Tristan, the ghost of a smile faint on his lips. "Fresh brewed local, we got more'n we know what t' do with," he replies, and finds something handy to slouch up against insouciantly. "So can I get in on this thing? I wanna meet this fabled brother of yours, if nothing else, gorgeous." The last, of course, directed toward Miki.

Miki goes pale and leans back, staring from Tristan to Ren with eyes as round as coins. "You-- you let... but why?" 'Uncomfortable' is far too mild a word to describe his expression-- he looks as though someone has just dumped a bucket of icy water over his head. His hands grip his forearms with white-knuckled intensity.

Tristan does not look surprised at all by Miki's reaction, in fact, he seemed to have been expecting it. He glances back at Ren, with a 'whaddaya gonna do' kind of resigned look.

Serendipity, on the other hand, arches a brow, looking more than a bit bemused at Miki. "Don't knock it 'til you tried it," he replies dryly, then shrugs. "I dunno, why not? I got plennya blood handy, he does better on human than tryin' to hunt down winter rabbits... so what the hell, doesn't hurt me any to help out." He glances sideways to Tristan and half-smiles. "Anyway, I kina like the guy."

Miki rocks a little bit backwards, as if he had considered taking a step back but didn't. "But it makes you feel ill and weak," he says. "And... helpless." His expression is eloquent; these terms are not euphemisms. He glances sideways at Tristan, almost apologetically, and adds, quickly, to Ren, "But if you do not mind, it is not to trouble *me,* after all."

"Only makes ya sick if ya take too much," Tristan says mildly. "Which is dumb, seein' as a person like myself only gets to drink on other peoples' tabs, if ya know what I mean. I never take enough t'make someone sick. It'd be suicidal, anyway, 'specially here, with local handsome brute Rowan practically itchin' to take my head off."

Serendipity hehs. "Yeah... ill 'n' weak's not what it's tended t' make =me= feel," he agrees, with a touch of amusement. "I dunno I'd let just =any= leech have a bite, but Tristan's a'ight."

For some strange reason, Miki glares at Tristan at the mention of Rowan, but seems perfectly happy to share that glare with Ren. "What do you mean? I have been *told* what happens when... you are bitten," (he says the latter part a little too quickly) "It makes you feel sick, so that you are helpless and cannot, can not get away." Another not-quite apologetic glance at Tristan out of the corner of his eye. "You did not mind?"

Tristan squints at Miki, then grins a little and shakes his head. "Well, as I ain't exactly a reliable source of information, maybe you could tell him what it feels like, Ren. He's half-right, anyway!"

Serendipity tilts his head at Miki. "'Told' doesn't always mean it's so," he points out, and leans more against the bookcase, going from insouciant to damn near impertinent. He studies Miki a moment, and then grins wickedly, "...I'd love t' give you a demonstration of kinda how it feels, but you'd prolly slap me, more's the pity. ...actual bite hurts a little, for a second, and then it's like..." he considers, then shrugs, "...it's kinda like gettin' your dick sucked. Sorry not t' be poetic. Anyway, I dunno about you, but it def'nitely doesn't make =me= sick."

Strangely, this news, which surely should at least explain the situation, only seems to serve to make Miki far more uneasy than before. "That does not make any sense," he says weakly, although of course his previous explanation made no better sense. He figdets backwards, away from Tristan. He mutters something, of which only, "...tevhitben leledzik" is audible, and adds, "I would not know, any way," to Ren, with emphasis.

"Sure it makes sense," Tristan says easily. "A real sick, fucked-up kind of sense, but we're real sick, fucked-up kinda people, yannow? It's like camouflage or something, right? People get bit, it feels real good, they want to get bit some more, vampires prosper. Like unnatural selection or some shit. Anyway, wouldn't expect you to want to try it," he adds. "What with you bein scared of it and all."

Serendipity nods to Tristan's comment. "Makes perfect sense," he agrees. "Like, sex feels good so we'll do it and make morea us." He flashes the wicked grin again and adds, "...I'm gonna assume you mean you wouldn't know about the bite, 'cause the other I don't believe for a =second=. Though hey, more'n willing to fix it if you do."

"I am NOT scared!" Miki bristles, turning on Tristan. "You were the one scared of me, when we met!"

Tristan bites his lip, his expression suddenly one of high hilarity barely held in. He wriggles in the beanbag, taps a spot in the upper right corner of his polymer sheet, causing it to fold itself neatly into something the size of a business card, and grins up at Miki. "Oh, okay, so all that with the--" He imitates Miki's pose of a moment ago--hands gripping forearms, eyes wide--with cruel accuracy. "All that, that wasn't SCARED, or anything, okay."

Serendipity grins, perfectly obviously amused. He's not laughing =at= Miki... he's just... grinning. At Miki. Well, =and= Tristan, so that's gotta make it fair, right? "I dunno, gorgeous," he points out mildly to Miki, "the guy's got a point, you weren't looking entirely sanguine. No pun intended."

Miki's eyes narrow and he glares at Tristan with an expression of near hatred. "I am only surprised that anyone would let you be eating," he says, his grammar slipping in the force of his anger. He glances aside at Ren, then addresses the vampire again, "because all you are good for is *saying* things that are not to be trusted-- and I was NOT scared! Kuss!"

Tristan hunkers down in his beanbag with a distinctly vulpine expression, then vaults to his feet in one smooth spring. He grins at Miki, fangs out. "Okay. Sure. Hey, nothing to be ashamed of, kiddo, a lot harder men than you avoid th' Kiss."

Serendipity just relaxes back against the bookcase, watching the pair of them with a grin that many would -- and have -- consider highly annoying.

At Tristan's thinly-veiled accusation, Miki actually flushes with rage. "Lo'fasz a valadgaba!" he says, with the intensity generally reserved for particularly bad curse words. He marches up to Tristan and glares at him with an absolute focus. "Go ahead, then! I am not afraid!"

Tristan rocks back and forth on his heels, sucking on one of his extended fangs, looking Miki down and up. In a living man, the look in his eyes would be called lust, without question. In him, it's something a little different, something both purer and more vile. "Serious?" he asks, his voice suddenly quiet, his gaze finding Miki's.

Serendipity isn't grinning anymore. But he's sure as hell still watching, more avidly if anything, lips very slightly parted. Miki's standing right in front of Tristan, glaring defiantly up at the vampire, Tristan looking back with unmistakable hunger. Ren's just leaning up against a bookcase quite nearby, watching...

Miki lifts his lip in an expression which is not a smile. "I am not a coward," he says. "I said it. I will do it. Or are *you* afraid, now?"

Safi bursts in with cold air and a little flurry of dry snow. She steps in and seems about to speak--and then she catches the tense body language, the tableau. "Tristan," she says softly, "are you causing trouble?"

Tristan doesn't even look around. "Who, me, trouble?" he asks softly, eyes still locked on Miki's. He prowls forward a few steps, to get up close and personal, close enough to Miki to kiss him. "I never cause trouble." His long, bony fingers close around Miki's wrist.

Serendipity glances away only long enough to see who's entered, and flash the girl a quick, absent smile of greeting. "Heya, beautiful," he greets her distractedly, already back to watching the vampire and his prey.

Miki watches Tristan, his eyes never leaving the vampire. Although it is an intimate gesture, it is not a friendly one; Miki's face is set, guarded, almost hostile. He allows Tristan to take his wrist, the only change in his expression the slightest widening of his eyes. Otherwise, the mask of control does not slip.

Safi's eyes narrow slightly. Critically, almost. She doesn't say a word.

Tristan risks a quick glance over his shoulder at Safi, flashing her a grin that is possibly meant to be reassuring, but fails miserably in that goal. He looks back at Miki, slides an arm around him, his hand spread on Miki's back supportively. He raises the smooth white wrist to his mouth, and without further ado sinks his teeth, fangs sliding smooth and deep.

Serendipity keeps watching, right where he is -- nearly mesmerized, it looks like. Definitely fascinated.

Miki doesn't react at all to the pain of being bitten-- no flinch, not even the flicker of an eyelid. When the other effect hits him, his whole body tenses, and along the lines of his taut muscles you can see him fighting his instinct to pull away. That battle, however, slowly starts to balance with the other instinct; the one to sway closer, to let go. For a long moment he stands perfectly poised between the two options, shivering.

Uncomfortably, Safi looks away--and then walks toward the bookshelves. She starts putting books away, trying not to look.

Tristan makes a somewhat startled little sound as Miki's blood hits him. His eyelids flutter closed in unabashed enjoyment, and he takes his time about the drink, although he doesn't actually draw much blood. After a time, though, he finishes up, withdrawing his fangs and laving Miki's wrist with a swipe of his tongue. The wounds vanish, and Tristan lifts his head, his eyes half-shuttered. "Heavy," he comments, slightly delirious. "Oh, that's some good, rich stuff..."

Serendipity moistens his lips, a quick slip of tongue-tip against the skin, and keeps watching, stays where he is, crossing his arms loosely across his stomach.

Miki sways a little on his feet as Tristan lets him go. He blinks at the vampire, then looks at his wrist as though he can't quite believe it's not bleeding. He mutters something in Hungarian, too low to be heard, then realizes just how close he's standing to Tristan and takes a hasty step backwards.

Safi watches them through the shelving, and then looks away again, stacking her books.

Tristan reels backwards from Miki, too, arms outflung. "Whoa!" he says, grinning maniacally. "Everything looks all kinna funky...oh man..." He staggers towards the door. "What kinda weird fucked up blood you got, there, kid? It's heavy...so heavy..." Clumsy as a drunkard, he fumbles for the latch. "Gotta..gotta..." Somehow he maneuvers the door open, and plunges outside, with a whoop. "Holy shit! It's COLD out here!" The door slides shut behind him.

Serendipity laughs, a sudden, brief sound, staring after Tristan for a moment, and then pushes off the bookcase, standing straight... then stops there, as if he'd forgotten what he was doing.

Miki watches Tristan leave, his expression utterly still and reserved. If he finds the vampire's strange performance unexpected or startling, amusing or satisfying, it does not show on his face at all. He runs his fingertips over his wrist-- as if to be absolutely sure that it is, indeed, whole and healed again-- and stares at the door, his face more firmly shut than the door itself is.

Safi takes a book from the shelves and paces over to the armchair. She flops down into it and opens the illustrated volume of Blake's poetry.

Serendipity runs his hands through his hair, the first pulling out the thong that holds it in its ponytail and the second combing through the strands before he gathers them back into place, and eyes Miki. "So," he asks, a corner of his lips quirking up slightly, "...that make you ill and sick and weak, or what?"

Miki's gaze swivels around to fasten on Ren, and his expression does not become any softer. "It is an illusion," he says flatly, his eyes narrowed and hard as glass. "What it does. Only illusion." Then he strides towards the door, his walk as tense and angry as a fighting tom's.

Not a sound, until the door closes. "It does not... make you sick," Safi says softly. "It feels ...it is like sex. Beautiful. Seductive."

"No more illusion than any other feeling," Ren replies calmly, with a little shrug. "Sorry, gorgeous. What feels good, feels good. You don't hafta like it, but it doesn't make it not true." When Safi speaks, he wanders over toward her chair, and sits on the arm of it, tilting his head back to rest against the top of it, with a sigh. Eventually, he remarks, "...yeah."

Safi sets the Blake aside, letting it fall to the floor. Then she leans against him, reaching out to touch--almost an embrace.

Serendipity sighs again, quietly, and leans into Safi in return, eyes closed. He's unusually quiet just now, really.

She strokes his thigh, carefully. "You are... okay?"

Serendipity's mouth spreads into a somewhat wry smile, and he laughs once, a soft sound muffled behind his closed lips. "...yeah, pretty okay, I s'pose. Why wouldn't I be?" Eyes still shut.

"You are not talking," she says softly. "It is not like you, zis quiet."

That gets a grin, though he doesn't otherwise move. "You sayin' I talk too much?" he asks, teasingly.

Safi shakes her head minutely, smiling in answer.

Serendipity shifts a bit, slides an arm about the girl's shoulders. "...I dunno, beautiful," he admits eventually. "Feelin' a little weird, I guess. No big deal or anything, though. An' how're you?"

"What is wrong?" she asks softly. Her head nuzzles at his side, finding a place there.

"...I dunno," Ren repeats, a touch sheepishly. He slides down to squeeze into the chair beside her, rests his cheek atop her hair, and cuddles. He's a natural at it. "I mean, I wouldn't say anything was wrong, 'zactly, anyway, but."

There is a moment's uncertainty, but then she relaxes into the embrace, nuzzling a little. "But?"

Another tiny, muffled laugh. "...I dunno. You're the feeling-sensing person, you prolly know better'n I do," Ren replies, a bit wry again. "All I know's what I said... feeling a little weird. But, y'know. It'll pass, yeah?"

Safi nods, and tips her head to lean it against him. "Mmm," she agrees quietly.

Serendipity sighs, a soft but long sigh, and lapses back into silence, just snuggling Safi and sitting with his own thoughts.

She stays there contentedly for a long time--but eventually Safi stirs, kissing him on the cheek.

Serendipity opens his eyes, surprised, and grins crookedly. "That mean you're leaving?" he asks, kissing her temple in return.

"I think I will go," she says softly. "Is late."

Serendipity sighs again, glancing down and away, and letting go. "...yeah, okay."

Safi twists a little, looking over to him, a hand coming up to touch his hair. "You do not want, for me to go?"

Serendipity shakes his head minutely, still looking at whatever that unremarkable spot on which his gaze has fallen has to offer at the moment. "...but, y'know, if you gotta be somewhere or something, don't change it on my account, yeah?" he replies quietly.

Safi shakes her head, and relaxes again, her hand stroking his hair--petting him, the way one might soothe a child. "Shhh." A silence, then; for a long time she only radiates warmth and caring, trying to make him feel comforted and safe.

Serendipity shifts down lower in the chair, resting his head on Safi's shoulder, eyes closed again. As much as the space allows, he curls his legs up on the seat beside them, or makes a good try at it. "...Safi?" he murmurs, after a while, "...thanks."

Safi holds him almost carefully, wrapping both arms around him as best she can. "Shh," she murmurs, into the dark hair. A chaste kiss drops onto the top of his head.

Serendipity smiles a little, and gives her a squeeze. "Thanks," he murmurs again, and sits up a bit. "And, uh. Sorry. Heh." He sounds a little embarrassed again. "I mean, if you gotta go, it's fine and all."

She shakes her head, touching a kiss to his temple. "Shh." Then his cheek, soft and affectionate. One hand is tangled in the strands of long hair.

Serendipity hesitates a moment, then breathes a near-silent laugh and snuggles back in, slipping the leather tie from his hair to leave it free. He actually obeys the shhing for a while, too. Good boy.

Stroking his hair, Safi remains silent for a long time.

Eventually, Ren seems suffused with calmness. He sits up again, taking Safi's face in his hands, and kisses her gently on the forehead, then lets go, stretching a little.

Safi wriggles a little in the confined space, and answers by kissing his cheek--a little too close, maybe, with her arms draped around him.

Serendipity wraps his arms back close around her and returns the kiss -- definitely too close, though still qualifying as cheek. He laughs, suddenly, and lets go, unwinding from her and standing in one smooth motion, wreathed in long, dark hair. "Better watch out," he murmurs, a touch wryly. Whether it's meant for her or for himself... who knows?

Her eyes follow him, fascinated. She tips her head. "Watch out?" The green gaze remains focused on his hair, where the dark strands flow over his shoulder, his side. Wetting her lips, she finally manages to look to his face, meeting his eyes with a subdued hunger in her own.

Serendipity takes a step back toward her, not quite intentionally, and reaches out to brush a strand of her hair from her cheek. "...you're so sweet," he remarks quietly. "...and so very, very beautiful. 's dangerous, y'know. Could get a guy in trouble."

Safi swallows, and lowers her eyes as she rises hurriedly to her feet. "I am sorry. I.. sometimes I do not think." She wets her lips, and a disturbed expression crosses her face. "It is only that..." The green eyes glance to him, nervously, and she steps toward him to touch his hair, watching his face. "I think you are beautiful, too."

Serendipity's eyes meet hers, and he steps in again, wrapping an arm around her waist, the other hand resting at her jaw. He studies her a moment, and then kisses her cheek again, this time exactly where such a kiss ought to be -- then again, closer to her ear. "Don't wanna hurt you, lovely. I mean -- I never would, directly, but I don't want you to be hurt. Yeah?" He pulls just an inch or so away, to half-smile at her. "I prolly oughta get goin' for the night, mm?"

Her breathing is a touch faster, the closeness pulling an instinctive response from her; her eyes are wide, touched with something wild. A swallow tightens her throat, and she nods, makes a vague affirmative sound.

Serendipity is breathing similarly, and he nods back, a mirror of her own movement. "...yeah," he agrees, quietly, without actually making any move to let go or leave, yet. "...because I really want to kiss you. And I really, really shouldn't." Pointing this out as much to himself as anyone else. But he can't quite avoid one question, "...right?"

Safi answers with a tiny little nod, a wordless whimper coming from her throat.

Serendipity swallows, and nods back. "...right," he agrees with himself, half a whisper. It takes several more seconds before he works up enough self-control not only to keep fighting his instincts and desires but also to actually let go, and step away. "...Right. G'night, beautiful..." He gazes at her another couple seconds, shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets, and then turns, starting for the door.

"Night," she whispers, and takes a few deep, shuddering breaths.

Serendipity turns, a step back and around to face her, still heading for the door, though backward. His hair and coat both swirl about him with the movement. "...g'night," he murmurs back, with a look that combines longing and apology in almost equal parts, and then he's turned back, and the door is closing behind him.

She watches him, expression stark with wanting, the green eyes vague.