Twirling tea cups at any amusment park is garanteed a good barf if you do it just right. What always got to Hawthorne was is it the circle thing in the middle that turned or did it stay in place while the rest of it turned. Either way it made you dizzy. She swallowed hard, placing the plastic cup with Budwiser between her legs as she gripped the circle and pulled.

The world turned around her, the lights of the amusment park sparkled in delight, and the faces of the people eating their cotton candy and walking their foam lizard started to fade into a blur. Music played a chaotic tune, like a sound track to the experience. The first cup of beer didn't appreciate the sudden rush of adrenaline, the blur of light and sound that suddenly became the world. It was strange in that few seconds how everything seemed so unreal, how when the ride stopped, she would slip off, stumble to find some sort of balance and watch as everything slowly slipped back into it's right place.

'Miss? Miss?'

Hawthorne looked up slowly to see a face imerge from the blur. 'Miss do you need help getting out? The rides over.' Violet eyes looked over him then slowly turning her head she looked around. It had stopped, things swam in and out of focus, glimmering lights still danced like little choatic fireflies but the tea cup had come to a halt and there she sat totally emersed. Gently she took his hand in her left and the budwiser in the right and pulled her trembling legs into standing.

She stumbled to a bench and plomped down laying her head back against the wood as she waited for the effects to wear off. Thunder cracked in the distance sending a breeze across her face with the scent of rain. In the heat it would feel good. Maybe even sober her up some.

"Knock, knock."

A pair of slim arms folded and rested on the back of the bench, only an inch from her shoulder, a soft, tenor voice spoke in her ear. A distinctly male voice. His chin rested on his arms, a narrow face and amber eyes that looked very human, despite the unhuman nature that lay within him. His hair is a mixture of browns and blondes and has been pulled from his face in a short, neat ponytail, though the wind pulled loose whisps to tickle at her skin.

His clothing would have been more in place down the avenues where whoreing and mindless flirting was common. He wore a sheer silver mesh shirt and loose pants. Only a sliver of dark silver ran over groin and butt, a pair of very short, tight, silver shorts under invisable material. The pants ended, tucked into calf high, soft gray boots.

He stood, bent at the waist, leaning over the bench, one knee cocked slightly. Two silver hoops made home in his nipples, silver because it harmed werewolves. Silver because it would keep the hole open.

God. She closed her eyes letting the last of the dizziness fade before she turned her head slightly, just enough to catch him in the sight of her violet eyes. Hawthorne only looked long enough to take everything in. The ensemble, the physical features, the flirtatous attitude thrown upon her. Innitate also, she could feel it against her aura. She turned her head so that she looked forward.

'Who's there?'

If she hadn't been drinking she probably wouldn't have a sense of humor right now. The fabric of the white cotton tank top tightened slightly as she inhaled, jeans covered her legs, jeans weren't appropriate for summer but Hawthorne never wore shorts.

"I dun know." He shrugged, his shoulders coming up, rising his arms slightly, save for his elbows, from the wood and then lowering it back into place. He smiled, flashing a mouth of perfectly straight, white teeth. No braces, no whitening involved. Perhapes good genetics. "I thought you might tell me."

He shifted upright, his hands never leaving the bench as he stood and gave a small hop that inabled him to bound right over the back of the bench and land with his butt on the seat. He hadn't shaken the bench at all or made a sound when he landed very, very closely to her. "Mind if I sit?"

The question was irrelevent since he was already there.

She smiled slightly at his reply as she finished her drink. 'Annoying perhaps?' Her gaze fell on him as he jumped in the bench beside her. His movements were fast and a bit hard to take in at the moment. Hawthorne blinked, trying to clear her mind of the slight buzz. 'Nope go ahead.' She wanted to scoot away from him, perhaps put at least a foot between them but her body felt like concrete.

'I'm Hawthorne.' Thunder gave a soft rumble once more closer this time, lightening even danced in the clouds giving them a glow. She hoped wearing a white shirt wasn't going to be a problem.

He grinned once more, settling comfortably onto the bench, his arms spreading along the back of the wood in both directions. His shoulders rose and fell slightly with his laughter, which was like some wild bell that could pull a reaction out of a six month gone corpse.

"No, certinlly not annoying. I thought I would aim more for...ah..." he waved one hand around in a circular motion, searching for an appropriate word, though he'd already thought of one. "Dashing. Or perhaps charming or ... inticing."

His laughter certainly produced a reaction, one of those one hoped was hidden well. Maybe it was the fact he was close and irritatingly flirtatous, combined with the fact that she hadn't been ridden since May. Hawthorne hesitated before leaning slightly in his direction so that her lips caressed his ear as she spoke. 'Dashing and charming I could agree to ... Enticing?' She paused feeling raindrops lace her skin. 'I might need alittle more convicing for that.'

A smile curved at her lips as her violet eyes glanced to his. The thought of What the Hell? ran through her mind.

Her lip caressed his ear as she tauntingly whispered and a matching smile curved his own lips, gracing his face. He leaned in towards her, turning his face against her cheek until their faces were pressed close and his lips were in turn, to her ear.

"If I am both dashing and charming then I am at least one step ahead in the game, am I not?" Oh dear, Asher is truely begining to wear off onto Justin's personality. "What might convince you I am all dashing, charming, and enticing?" He had, by this point, lowered his tenor voice to a soft, caressing whisper. Something about whispers seemed to be more intimate.

Rain drops touched his skin, over his legs, his chest, sliding through the mesh of his clothing and another smile graced his lips. He need not worry about wearing white. His clothing was already transparent. Save for those silver shorts beneath the mesh.

(Please, forgive my delay, Love.)

(c'est bon ^-^)

Pausing to inhale, she felt the warmth of his skin against hers as he spoke. His voice, it was soft as he whispered intimately against her ear ... it wasn't however textured or accented though as some she had known before this night. She listened to his questions, hardly paying attention being this close.

In reply to his first she chose not to give an answer, he was right ... and it seemed he knew it well. On his second she hesitated with every intention of giving him an answer, but there were so many answers she could give. Her silk lips curved for a smile before she tilted her head slightly laying her lips against his neck. There was a certain area of the neck that stirred the right thoughts, though they probably already were, it was still her every intention to get to it.

Hawthorne smiled against the flesh of his neck as she bit lightly, lacing soft sharp kisses over tender skin. She drew back slowly, violet eyes glimpsing into his as she stood. 'I suppose some place drier might.' If anything, at all, was going to happen, she didn't want to be in the rain with wet clothes and matted hair.

"Drier? It's a small thing you ask."

Justin stood up with all the grace of a beast, waisting no muscles, forgetting not tendon and useing them all. It is this that allows him to move with an unhuman grace. And perhapes it is also because he isn't human anymore. He reached for her and took her hand in his, holding gently, a way in which too keep and and allow her to get away if she wished.

"Then let me provide us a place," and he turned his back to her and began to talk, water dropplets clinging to his mesh clothing, dropletts causing the boyshorts beneath the transparent pants to darken two shades in color where water touched.

With the movement Hawthorne recieved the first taste of his aura, it crawled over her skin sending goosebumps marching up her arm. Lycanthrope. All three hundred something years of her life she had known it to be a disease, or to treat it as one. The was no known cure and it was contagious. From what she had heard it was only animal form she had to worry about, human was safe. It wasn't like he was going to go all furry on her right? ...

Suddenly she wasn't sure about following him somewhere and being alone. However she let him guide her as the suspicions carried on behind her violet eyes. The rain has started to come down harder, she let her hand slip from his so she could pull back her hair. There wasn't much she could do about her white tank but that didn't seem to be a terrible matter anymore. Neither did the fact that he was a Lycan either, which had totally slipped her mind with the issue of her hair. It was funny how the right amount of alcohol could do that. At her hight and weight it wasn't much.