"Jean-Jacques," Chloé said, walking into the scullery, making Jean-Jacques pause his washing of the dishes to give her his full attention. "I was going to drink some wine tonight, would you like to join me?" She flaunted a heavy bottle of red.

"But I've never-"

"You've been more than old enough for some time, have you not? Of course, I don't want to pressure you if you have no interest," she continued. "I'm aware your situation with your father might make it unconscionable to you."

"That doesn't bother me... at least not very much. If I'm honest I think I would prefer blood to wine though."

Chloé laughed, "I can offer that to you as well."

It came so easily these days, Chloé offering her blood. One wouldn't guess from how casual she was that at first she was incredibly hesitant about it. Jean-Jacques could still remember the first time he'd asked her for some, how it felt like he had pushed her into a corner unintentionally,  one he hadn't even noticed. Her stiff acquiescence in the form of a cup overflowing with blood discomfiting regardless of how basely cloying it had been on his tongue.

"I suppose I will indulge in it if it's with you."

Chloé rolled her eyes at that, beckoning him to follow. He set the dishes aside, wiping his hands on a towel and trailing behind. He would have liked to hold her hand but the one not gripping the neck of the bottle had two glasses hanging from its fingers. Alternatively he could pick her up, though that also seemed ill advised, the sort of thing that would cause her to drop and break something that he would have to clean up.

Chloé brought them to the sitting room, dark but for the fireplace she had lit in advance. Chloé ignored the sofas, bypassing them to sit on the worn rug in front of the fire, black dress fanning out around her like an unfurling flower. Chloé cut a surreal figure in the light, appearing faded at the edges, vanishing into the black lace of the dress where the shadows were deepest.

She placed the glasses down delicately, popping the cork from the bottle with practiced efficiency and filling the glasses to a level bordering on excessive. Jean-Jacques eventually managed to drag himself forward, lowering himself down beside her. The wine glasses and bottle separated them.

"Is this usually how it goes when you drink with someone?" Jean-Jacques furrowed his brows, picking up the glass closest to him.

"I wouldn't know," Chloé shrugged. "I've never had a drinking partner before. This seemed a nice place for it, cosy might be the right word."

"Then I'm honoured to be your first."

"That's so like you." Chloé offered her glass to him. "Cheers, to firsts."

"To firsts."

The ringing of the glasses didn't seem to fade until Jean-Jacques took the first tentative sip of the wine. He had to hold back the urge to scrunch his nose up in distaste. It wasn't nearly as good as he had expected. He didn't understand at all why Chloé had any fondness for it.

"You don't like it," she smiled, seeing right through him. "No need to force yourself if it's as terrible as your face is telling me it is."

Jean-Jacques ducked his head apologetically. "I'll at least make sure not to waste this glass."

"In that case I suppose the job of finishing the bottle falls to me."

"Chloé-!"

"I'm joking, Jean-Jacques, I know how much liquor I can take and a whole bottle might be pushing it. Please relax, I asked you to drink with me so you could. Riling you up is counter-intuitive."

"You wanted me to relax?"

Chloé hummed thoughtfully. "I wanted to ask you to do this for a long time actually. It feels like you're always taking care of me. It makes me afraid I don't give you enough time to take a break. Besides, I like making excuses to spend careless time with you."

"I enjoy every moment at your side as well."

Chloé found the statement exasperating, even as fondness warmed her insides. She gulped down some more wine.

Jean-Jacques coughed around his second sip, not bothering to conceal his displeasure this time. "How old were you when you first tried this?"

"Eleven."

"Eleven!?"

Chloé shrugged. "I grew bored enough to sneak some at the time. I had no appreciation for the taste but the rebellion of it was sweet enough. I was an obedient child in most regards so I can't say what drove me to it."

"I fear I have some catching up to do."

"Best not follow my example," Chloé said airily. "Responsibility is a fine virtue."

Chloé found the bottom of the glass empty, far faster than she had anticipated. She refilled it, bringing the glass to her lips before she even returned the bottle to the floor. Usually she was slow, savouring every drop. Somehow Jean-Jacques' presence had loosened her restraint. It wasn't unpleasant.

Time passed easily. Even with barely half a glass inside of him Jean-Jacques found himself soothed. He knew it was due to Chloé's presence more than the drink. He was always contented when they allowed themselves to lounge around. He looked to her then, attention fixed on the swirling frames in front of her. Her lips were turned up minutely at the corners, a pleasant flush sitting on her cheeks from the wine. It struck him in a way he couldn't name.

He wanted more. With her. With Chloé. With his inhibitions lowered that didn't seem so wrong for once. He was still nervous about approaching Chloé with his desire for... he wasn't entirely sure what. He had only ever gone as far as drinking blood from her and she had never taken up the offer to drink his in return, beyond that he didn't know how far he wanted - or would be allowed - to explore. At least there was one thing he knew he wanted to try, the atmosphere in the room giving him the confidence he needed.

Jean-Jacques leaned forward, bracing himself against the ground with one hand as he moved closer to Chloé. Like this he dwarfed her, shadow falling across her features as he brought his face closer to hers, eyes flicking down to her lips.

A hand pressed gently but firmly against his chest, stopping his movement.

"No."

Her eyes were red and all the muscles in her arm were tensed, prepared to push him away with strength her appearance belied. Her expression was indecipherable and conflicted, but absolutely not positive. Jean-Jacques recoiled immediately, giving Chloé so much space that he ended up outside the edges of the light cast by the fire. In his haste he knocked the wine bottle over, deep red flowing across the carpet, meeting Chloé's hand when she dropped it from the empty space where he had been a second earlier.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." He hesitated between two different directions before fleeing the room, leaving Chloé sitting there. Alone.

She watched him go. The stickiness of the wine seeped between her fingers. Her head spun, inebriation making it difficult to hold onto any coherency. She was used to her emotions being muted, smothered by a dampening layer of snow, with her tipsiness came an uncomfortable corporeality. She could taste her anger, hot and acrid, and at the same time there was a persistent cold sunken into her bones, making her shiver. With it Chloé didn't notice the blackness pushing from her back until Her wide smile was forcing itself into her line of sight.

"You." the word came out slowly, poorly concealed vexation oozing from it.

"Good evening to you, Chloé." If She noticed Chloé’s resentment She didn't seem to care. "You looked lonely after Jean-Jacques left."

"You were watching us? Do you watch us all the time?" Some of it was slurred, all of it angry.

"I only happened to get lucky in catching the end of this... disagreement? I was going to leave you until you chose to push him away. I wasn't expecting that!"

"You thought I would kiss him?"

Her face twisted, eyes and mouth keeping their usual mirthfulness though they repositioned to be more crooked. "Why wouldn't you?" She sounded sincerely confused.

"It wouldn't be right. I don't know what a kiss means to him. Nor to myself."

"Oh, Chloé, a kiss is nothing." The shadow twisted around Chloé's body and cupped her cheeks before sealing their mouths together briefly. "See?"

"I hope you haven't been doing that with Jean-Jacques, dear."

"Would that displease you?"

"Yes."

She giggled. "I'm not interested in that boy, I like you far more."

Chloé took the thing's face between her hands, wine trickling from the fingers of one hand. She caressed what could be described as its cheek with her thumb. Touching it came so easily. There wasn't anything in all of creation she hated more and she still found affection towards it more comfortable than towards Jean-Jacques.

"Would you kiss me again?"

A tiny laugh ghosted over Chloé's skin and the spectre changed shape. Her features softened and solidified, something like wispy black hair interspersed with strands of white flowing upwards from Her head. Her body gained structure, like a girl dipped in ink so completely, impossibly, black she seemed to be made of the night itself, the impression only ruined by the white bubbles that flowed through her form. Her eyes closed, nothing but white eyelashes indicating where they were. And her lips gained definition, softness evident in them.

She kissed Chloé as she had asked and Chloé remembered the feeling, exactly as it had been the last time. She hated it as much as she had then. When the shadow parted from her, their hands still holding each other, Chloé licked her lips absently.

"Now I would like to kiss you."

She seemed amused by the suggestion. Her form wavered in Chloé’s grasp. Her face withered like a corpse's, eyes opening into gaping black voids where white had once been. Her lips cracked and split, mouth so wide it seemed her face might split in two, teeth protruding in a sickly white cortege as once supple lips pulled back from them. The skin beneath Chloé's fingers was rough and unpleasant, as though it would flake away at any disturbance. That it remained solid was more horrifying than it should have been.

Chloé pressed her lips to the creature without reluctance, feeling more teeth than skin. She kissed Her without love and without passion. Chloé kissed Her exactly as she herself would deserve to be kissed. It was utterly hollow. When she was sure it had lasted long enough Chloé released Her and sat back a little. She watched Her return to Her usual appearance, almost two dimensional in its presentation.

"I agree kisses mean very little," Chloé conceded.

"Then why reject Jean-Jacques? Do you dislike him?"

"I love him."

"Oh? Is that a problem?" She said.

"I doubt you would understand. If I kissed him and liked it my love would lose all decency."

"Why?"

"I raised that boy. I might as well be his mother."

"You wouldn't be the first mother to fall in love with her son."

Chloé eyes went wide and her brows plunged into hard lines. "That's repulsive!"

"Repulsive to whom? The only ones here to judge you are me, Jean-Jacques and yourself."

"Morality doesn't disappear because there's no witnesses."

"Morality? You think far too much like a human, Chloé," She jeered. "And you aren't his mother in any case, he certainly doesn't think so. Do you really see him as a son or is that an excuse?"

"Whether or not I see him that way doesn't change that by all rights I should."

"Ah," She hummed, "He's on his way back. I can hear his footsteps. What will you do, Chloé?"

"I-" Chloé didn't know. Couldn't think.

The shadow pressed another kiss to her cheek. "Much as I would love to play with you longer I know I'm not wanted for this exchange. Tell me all about it when I return."

Jean-Jacques walked in not a moment after the shadow disappeared and from the way his eyes narrowed at Chloé's back he probably caught the last wisps of Her dissipating. He had a towel in hand and as he scurried over Chloé abruptly remembered the spilled wine. The bottle was still on its side, a few pitiful drops still slipping from the rim.

They didn't say a word as Jean-Jacques righted it, using the towel he'd brought to soak up the spillage and doing his best to save the rug, though they both knew it would be irreparably stained. Chloé stared openly at him, feeling his gaze occasionally flick over to her, Jean-Jacques clearly believing his hair concealed it. She studied him, sizing up his jawline down to his neck where it met his clothes, too thick to really give an idea of what they concealed. Chloé knew anyway, having seen him enough times. Strong, lean, attractive even. She could admit that.

Chloé snatched the rag from Jean-Jacques' hands, tossing it aside. He made a surprised noise and she made no attempt to explain. She was tired of talking, tired of thinking. Chloé grabbed his shoulders, forcing him onto his back, Jean-Jacques allowing it without resistance. She sat upon his chest, bracing her arms on either side of his head, looking down at him. His eyes were wide and disoriented, face flushed and mouth agape. She really couldn't understand him. Looking so beguiled in such a situation. She wished he weren't so agreeable, she would be able to exercise some self-restraint if he were.

"Chlo... é?

His chest heaved beneath her legs, every breath deep enough to rock her.

She kissed him. Barely. Touch so light it barely registered. It had been meant to test the waters yet it felt like stepping over the point of no return, tumbling over a cliff in the dark.

Her fangs grew within her mouth, pushing against her tongue.