[b]C'est la Mort, C'est l'Amour[/b]

You weren't really lying when you said you were French; maybe leaving out the "up to lineage only" tidbit was a little douchecanoe of you. Still, she lapped it up with the excitement of a puppy, and when you offered to teach her how French kisses work "back home", she didn't say no.

She was cute.

But your Mom and Ma can only let you horse around for so long before you must resume your studies and be a pathologist like your mother is, and your grandmother, and your great-grand ...

It's a little unnverving to say the least to see a summer fling turn up at your door one day, and after she pokes around the food, proclaims she's a zombie who can absorb memories and personalities through brain she, err, eats.

On top of figuring out why she isn't pushing up daisies - and here! In the lab with you! - you try to pretend a living corpse isn't looking at you with heart eyes.

(Inspired by iZombie.)