A. the thread I'm developing with
Spoiler
Ewan, the male nurse, as, well, a bit of a bloodthirsty monster (more will be explained later, just roll with it for now 
)
)and
B. the fact that I'm replacing quite a few nasty curse words with tamer ones (everytime they say "crap" or "goddamn", that's me refraining from spewing out "%$#*"). Do you notice it at all? I've given some of my characters a bit of a potty mouth, but I don't want to have to give myself an 18+ rating...}
Kael was surprised when the vehicle pulled over not far from where he sat—he was even more surprised when the driver, a human female, got out and began to approach him. Her mousy brown hair was pulled back in a sort of tail; she had the plump remains of what must have once been a slim, hourglass figure; and she wore black-tinted spectacles on her forehead. Kael liked her immediately; there was a kindly air about her, in the sway of her hips, in the subtle nodding of her chin as she walked. She was light, but sturdy—strong, but feminine. She looked like a mother.
He felt a pang of remorse as he was reminded suddenly of his own mother, but swallowed it as the female before him smiled and spoke to him.
“Do you need some help?”
“Huh,” he nodded, and opened his mouth to show her his mutilated tongue. He didn’t want another fiasco like his attempted conversation with the man in the tollbooth.
The woman gazed into his mouth and recoiled as she saw his cauterized wound. “That’s… disgusting…” she muttered under her breath. Composing herself, she continued cheerily, “So, I guess you can’t talk, then. You understand what I’m saying, though?”
He shrugged and nodded again. He moved his hand from side to side to indicate the limited nature of his vocabulary. “Ah kang kock ah-ih-uh,” he tried to say. I can talk a little.
The woman laughed. “I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t understand a word you just said. Try stick to sign language, next time.”
Kael’s brow furrowed. Sign language?
She saw that something had confused him. “Er… what didn’t you understand?”
“Gning ahng-oo-agh.”
“Gni—oh!” she grinned. “Sign language is… when you, er… talk with gestures. Movement, you know?”
Kael nodded, though he had only been able to process half of her words. He thought he got the gist, however.
The woman cleared her throat. “I’m guessing you don’t have a Voucher’s Pass, huh? That’s why you can’t get across?”
Kael shook his head. “Ah hoo-gnah uh-her-hang Vougurh Pak,” he said, repeating what he had said to the man in the tollbooth. Luckily, this woman seemed better at deciphering the key words of his mangled speech.
“Voucher’s Pass? Is that what you mean?”
“Huh.”
“And… you don’t understand what that is, am I right?”
“Gno…”
The woman smiled, “It’s a pass for ‘Tra—sorry—Datra, such as yourself. It lets you get into the city,” she pointed to the glass towers over the water, and Kael’s heart leapt.
“How?” he asked eagerly, glad that he could pronounce at least one word correctly.
“Well,” the woman reached for his hand. He flinched away from her touch, and she drew back. “Sorry,” she said, and motioned for him to get up. “Follow me, and I’ll get you a Pass. I can even take you over the bridge, if you’d like.”
He nodded happily and got to his feet, his wings folding eagerly over themselves as he followed her to the tollbooth. Before they reached it, the woman stopped, did a double-take, and spun around to face him. “My name’s Jen, by the way. Jen Manning.” Her smile was wide, and he couldn’t help but return it.
“Keng,” he repeated.
She laughed. “Sure. What about you? What’s your name?”
“Kair,” he told her. “Mah gnang ih Kair.”
“Sorry?” Jen leaned one ear closer to him. “Care?”
“Kay-yer.”
“Kaer?”
“Kay-errrrrr!” He extended the futile “r” as far as it would go. She didn’t seem to get it, so he said it again. This time, she watched his mouth—finally, realization dawned.
“Kael? That’s your name; Kael?”
“Huh!” he sighed. Finally.
“All righty, then,” Jen smiled and continued on to the tollbooth. “One Voucher’s Pass, please,” she said to the man in the booth. “One-way.”
⥈
Ewan stepped through Banser-Graham’s Backdoor exit, looking about him feverishly before dashing to the air vent’s purple-lint-covered corner, and vomiting. His face, ashen and slick with sweat, felt clammy even as his insides and throat burned. As the vomit turned to bile, the male nurse leaned against the wall, gasping for air. A string of sour spittle hung from his lower lip—he wiped it away and spat on the ground. Shivering, he felt a sharp contraction in his stomach and bent over, bracing himself for the worst.
With a violent heave, he coughed up one last thing—something black, foul-tasting, and slick with bile. It fell to the pavement with a wet, squishy sort of sound; it landed on a recently stubbed-out cigarette butt. The still-smouldering tobacco ash hissed as the wet thing made contact with it—Ewan winced.
“Crap,” he groaned weakly. The parking lot swam before his eyes in a grey blur, and he collapsed, his shoe landing in the puddle of vomit in the corner. Ewan couldn’t even bring himself to care, he felt so weak. And all because some jerkoff bumped me and made me swallow my gum, he thought bitterly.
He took a moment to gather his wits. The world came back into focus, and he rubbed his eyes briefly before reaching for the black clot. He prodded it gently—it seemed safe to touch. I’d better do this fast, before the bile dries up.
Ewan lifted the clot in his left hand and dusted the cigarette ashes off it. With a grimace, he opened his mouth as wide as it would go and swallowed the thing whole.
He sputtered as the slick black blob slithered down his throat. It tasted like blood—salty and metallic—with a sickeningly bitter aftertaste. He retched emptily as it passed through him; with a final, powerful heave, he lurched forward, narrowly missing a dip into his vomit. His throat was on fire, his stomach was twisting violently, he couldn’t breathe… and then it was over.
Ewan dry heaved for a moment before he finally got to his feet. “Well,” he muttered to himself, “that wasn’t too bad.”
Behind him, the hinges of the Backdoor squealed and someone stepped out. Ewan turned, startled—and there stood none other than the Private Ward nurse, Brenda, clicking open a cigarette lighter. She lit up, took a drag, and exhaled.
“Hi, Brenda,” Ewan waved, trying not to look directly at her.
“Oh—hey, Ewan,” she flashed him a dazzling smile. “What’re you do—” she suddenly caught sight of the mess he had left in the corner and made a face. “Did you just puke?”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Food poisoning.”
“Hmm,” she took another drag. The sound of her exhale—a soft whoosh—was exquisite in his ear. He curled his hands into fists and turned his head away. He could hardly bear being in her presence; there were others like her, of course. Other people—women, mostly—who tried his patience to the extreme. But Brenda seemed to have taken an unfortunate liking to him. Somehow, she always managed to end up exactly where he was, especially during breaks in their shifts. Ewan wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that she had followed him out the Backdoor.
And then she goes and tries to act all nonchalant—as if I don’t know what she’s trying to do, he thought bitterly. After all this time, I’d have to be pretty goddamn stupid not to.
“How was your shift?” she asked him breezily.
(His eyes flickered briefly to her face; her deep, brown eyes, her pretty red mouth, a mouth that was always smiling…)
Ewan grit his teeth and forced a smile of his own. “Pretty good,” he answered.
(…down to her neck, pulsating gently, creamy white and utterly vulnerable; a muscle in that neck twitched, and the chain of her silver heart necklace grew taught as she cocked her head to one side…)
“What’re you staring at?” she asked playfully, locking his gaze. He shuddered and began to salivate.
“Nothing,” he flushed. Just your jugular.
(…Oh, God, it had been far too long.)
“I’m sure,” Brenda laughed airily, returning to her cigarette.
It would only take a second, he thought to himself as the pretty nurse eyed him through the tobacco smoke. I could snap her neck… rip out her throat before she had a chance to scream. I’d hide in the bushes and pick her bones clean. Then it would only be a matter of hiding her clothes and getting the hell out of town before anyone notices… He cut his inner monologue off short. Goddammit, man, keep it together. This might be a secluded parking lot, but it’s still out in the open air, for God's sake!
“You okay, Ewan?” Brenda’s brow furrowed. “You look like you wanna puke again.”
“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine,” he mumbled breathlessly. “I think I’d better get some air… er, some other air, that is. The smoke, y’know…”
Brenda nodded, clearly a little disappointed. “Yeah, no, I get it. It can’t be helping.”
“Bye,” he said hurriedly, and dashed inside before she had a chance to respond.
