[b]AUDREY[/b]


[b]"Oh c'mon. It's not over, get up! Get up!"[/b]

Audrey's face, if it were possible, was contorted with even more horror than before. Her shaking pupils shrunk away from the cage fighter's hostile demands, burying themselves further into sunken eyes. The skin of her fingers reddened where metal met flesh, reflexively gripping the steel wire closer to her body - until the man's downed opponent stirred. Spike's muscles twitched to life like a mad scientist's bloodied atrocity reborn. Audrey barely heard the frightened yelp that escaped her lips, or the shriek that followed when Spike was K.O'd into the crowd. 

[b]"Come on, this way."[/b]

A skeletal hand wrapped around hers, pulling her from the scene. She fumbled behind the boney appendage, weakly resisting its hold on her. It wasn't until then that the young Alpha acknowledged the tears pooling in her eyes. Their stressed distortion made Vander, garbed head-to-toe in dark colors, resemble the Grim Reaper or some other nightmarish ghoul. [i]I've died,[/i] she thought. [i]I fell through a door and landed in Hell!"[/i]

"Let- Let go of me," Audrey objected cowardly. "Don't.. touch me."

The young woman - she figured out - didn't seem to hear her, but continued through the distracted throngs until they could sit down in a 'quiet' area of the bar. Audrey happily took a seat on the shabby staircase with little guidance from Vander. Once seated, grounded, the dark-haired woman hurried to compose herself. Spike's blood had mixed with the hot tears on her cheek. Together they stained her long white fingers, and the woman couldn't help but stare, speechless. 

[b]"You okay? The Spit gets rough sometimes, sorry. It helps to try to blend in a little bit. I mean, don't get me wrong, people from Alpha come to slum it all the time. But you look like you're dressed for Dead Ce-... Hey, you all right?"[/b]

Audrey only gawked at Vander, something her mother would scold her for doing. But who was she? Rationale told her that she didn't know. Reality reminded her that - while obvious dangers were gone - she was still in the bar and not on the subway, heading home. Dirty fingers slowly clutched the leather opening of her purse to protect the contents inside. Something inside told her that Vander wouldn't steal from her, but something about the girl also made her very uncomfortable... like looking into a funhouse mirror, finding a distorted and grotesque reflection.

"I'm... fine. What do you want?" She asked defensively.