In the Blood [ON HOLD]

"What Sort of Problems"

The taste of her was still in his mouth as Leon drove them back to the Garden District. 

The heat of her body was still on his skin. The softness of her hair was still on his fingers. She was snarled into his mind like some kind of creeping vine.

Leon didn't say anything as he put the car in park, but didn't kill the engine. Sill, Remi could feel concerned, probably judgemental eyes on his back as he made his way to the gate, then through it to the front door.

He took it easy going up the stairs, babying the wound while he still could. It felt like a chore to go into his closet and pick a suit—to decide which color, which shirt, which tie would be best.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to be careless. Gina had always liked well dressed men. Or well dressed women, for that matter. 

He didn't plan for this meeting to extend past the daylight, so a lighter color would be acceptable but couldn't be something relaxed or casual either. He settled on a charcoal grey suit with a simple white shirt. It reflected his mood well enough.

Moving slowly, he stripped out of the jeans and t-shirt Moira had brought to Charlie's this morning. With the grey pants went a slim black belt after he buttoned his shirt and tucked it in.

That sexy little whine Charlie had given him sounded through his head and he went to his ties. Gina liked red. And she liked... personality. Burgundy with a pattern of dark silver stars.

Finally, he shrugged into a fitted vest, buttoning it with care before he slipped on the suit jacket. He glanced at himself in the mirror, fixed his collar, then frowned, and looked closer.

Charlie had left a very small bruise just under his ear, near the corner of his jaw. A smirk played at his mouth and he smoothed a hand over his side where the stitches had started to itch.

Pewter cufflinks shaped like compass roses rounded off the look, along with black shoes and Remi went back downstairs to meet Leon.

"Well?" Moira asked, lounging on the sofa in the living room with the grand piano. Remi kept walking past the open doorway, sure that whatever she wanted to discuss could wait, then stopped with a sigh and turned back around.

Her dark hair was in a loose braid, her feet bare and propped up on... at this point he had lost track. "Moira," he sighed, "what have I told you about the dogs on the furniture?"

The dog in question was a beautiful beast with large ears and intelligent eyes. A brown German shepherd with a black saddle and paws the size of Remi's palm. 

"If we observed that rule, neither you nor Leon could stay here," she said with a smirk as she flipped a page in the magazine she was looking at. "Besides," she leaned forward and ruffled the fur at the dog's neck, "Doc has better manners than you by far."

"Yes, but I don't shed." Remi sighed but came forward, stroking the edge of Doc's silky ear. 

The dog snuffled at his palm, then turned to look inquisitively at Moira. She tossed the magazine onto an ironwood coffee table and stood up. She held a flat palm out to the dog, who put his head down on his paws, ears and eyes flicking between Remi and Moira. 

She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "So? What happened with Charlie?"

All he could do was blink, fire racing through his blood. Her fingers digging into his back. Her tongue in his mouth. Her body molded to his, clinging with all the strength she had packed in that slender frame.

Moira snapped her fingers and he wondered how much of that had shown on his face. But all she did was frown in disapproval before she crossed her arms. "You forgot. Didn't you."