brightestlight | (no subject)

Hungry. Caroline Forbes was hungry, and it was, excuse the pun, eating at her. Every person she looked at, it made her drool, and twice her fangs had dropped when she'd just been looking at somebody. Because she felt like she could hear their heartbeats even if she couldn't, and seriously, eat-dream-sleep it was people and how close she was to just ripping out throats and eating the whole station.

Except people would come back, and Klaus would be super pissed if she started a witch hunt, and maybe she had some feelings, maybe she had a lot of feelings and the last thing she wanted was for him to totally hate her guts. So she drank the super gross crap the replicator was giving her, until she felt like it was playing with her - the third cup of disgusting sludge that maybe had been blood years before made her want to punch something and she had - and it was only just now that her hand had healed enough so that she could use it again. Her replicator was shot, and she'd moved into Klaus' room without a second thought. Looking at the drawings he'd made of her and his family, more of her clothes in his closet.

She'd been doing okay, sort of. She hadn't beaten his replicator into a sparking, weirdly buzzing mess, and she, if she said so herself, looked awesome - knee high black boots, hot but not trashy rest of it, and she looked human. That was important, too, because it wasn't like she could run around being all Woman of the Night, now could she?

So, right, all her Ts crossed, her Is dotted, she'd last until Klaus got back, until she could make her case for catching a bite - and even as she was thinking about it, even as she was walking down the concourse, she slowed to a stop as a man walked past her, and she just... stopped. "Hey," she said, her lips curving up into a smile. "Hey, do you have a second?"

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She - her name was Caroline, Mycroft had learned - was dressed for a night out in the city, which was strange, because it was neither the time, nor the place for such an appareance.

He offered a nod in greeting as they passed, but she stopped and spoke to him. "Yes, I do," he said, honesly, because he had no pressing matters to attend to.

"Great!" She smiled up at him, her hand grabbing his sleeve, and she's tugging him down an offshoot hallway, where nobody's hanging around. "Look, so, I know this is a little weird, but I found this thing," she lies, and then when they're around the corner, she just sort of stops, and takes a deep breath, huffing it out. "Something weird's going on,' she says to him honestly. "Everybody's acting like they're crazy." Not her, because hello, this is normal, but she's looking up at him like she's a second from asking him to help her, and maybe she is.

An eyebrow shot up. "Such as dragging random people from their walks to dark unsurveyed corners for no reason?" But he saw no harm in her. "What thing?" He asked, tiredly.

She stares up at him, and it's there, that thread and the push and her eyes hold his, compelling him. "Don't freak out, okay? You'll be fine, I promise." And she actually means it, but she's staring up at him, to watch and see if he agrees with her, or if he actually protests, asks her what she's talking about. She doesn't do this much, she's never done this much.

"Of course I'll be fine," Mycroft repeated her obvious remark. It was Sherlock who held a name for misogyny, but neither Holmes brothers held women in high regard. But then again, neither Holmes brothers held anyone in high regard. "What is it?" He asked again, dryly.

Dryly, but he was still there. He didn't walk away.

"There's a bunch of stuff around the corner," she says, and it's not a lie, but she's got him, and she smiled brightly. She moved closer, leaning up with her hand on his shoulder and she just... did it, her face changing, her fangs dropping and she bites him, and she makes a sound that's frankly inappropriate but she's not had blood from a person in something like a year and it tastes so good.

She knows she's got to stop, because there's no place to dump a body, and besides, even if she's not thinking right, that doesn't mean she wants to kill people, but she's just there, feeding on him, until she makes herself pull back because otherwise he's probably going to pass out. Her heart's singing and she licks her lips, and she could (but definitely, definitely won't kiss him because she was so thankful, and she stared back up into his eyes. Not freaking out, no. Good. "And you're going to forget this happened, right?" And she's staring up at him again, because she doesn't want him to go around crying vampire and making everything be all angry mobs.

"I've never forgotten a thing in my life," Mycroft replied, feeling somewhat woozy. "But if you don't want to tell me what it is, then really I'm not sure how I can help you."

"Of course you haven't." She reached up with her sleeve, and she patted the side of his neck so that he wouldn't have blood running down his neck. "It just looks like a homeless person's been living here." She knew who the homeless person was - it was her, when she'd needed to be alone, but at least she was showing him something so it's not like she was lying. "You feeling okay? You maybe want to sit down."

She felt bad. She felt bad, even though her stomach is full and finally, finally she feels better than she has in months. And she shouldn't feel bad, and you know what, maybe she wouldn't let herself.

His deductive reasoning had not abandoned him and he could easily assess who the 'homeless' was living there. "You know, there are empty quarters you could reside in," he remarked evenly. "No need to spend time in the hall," but it didn't come out very sardonic. He did want to sit down.

"Must be something in the water."

"No, I know that. I was- I guess I was hiding. I didn't get along well with my-" And then she stops for one second, and she just says it, just goes with it. "My boyfriend, and I just sort of needed to chill out." She shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah, it's weird here. Maybe alien space bugs in the water or something."

"This ship is thoroughly annoying," Mycroft easily admitted. "Get me a chair."