“A what?” he asked profoundly.

“Nothin, I’m addicted to sunshine, that’s all.” I reminded myself to smile, sheathing my fangs.

“Why the fuck are you in Seattle then?” he asked, eyebrows pulled down in question.

“Family,” I lied.

That shut him up. Curiosity kills. “Morgan,” I begged him to tell me more.

“Havn’t seen ‘em since I was sixteen. I disowned myself..”

“You ranaway?”

“Ran, drove, disowned, lived..” he dwindled on the last word. “Same thing.”

I let it drop, picking up a new subject. “So what do you kids do for fun during the daytime?”

He seemed surprised that I was intending to stay even longer still and doubt instantly settled in my stomach. He ran a hand through his messy hair.

“Well, first, we practice good hygiene, then we go to work, then we come home, eat dinner, sleep, and do it all over again.”

I had never heard of such a thing, never met anyone so simple and organized in life. It was depressing and oddly intimidating.

“I have a better idea,” I said.