Ghost sat on the bed while Mirabelle flailed her arms as though she was frustrated, angry, and at a loss for words, “I'm going to order room service. If they're paying for it, might as well.” He stood up briefly to walk over to the desk phone. Mirabelle stopped him, an easy task for a dragon her size, grabbed him by the shoulders, then kissed him. Ghost, of course, didn't know how to react and as his eyes went wide his body tensed up. He wondered what she was doing, if it was a message or not. Dragons were still by and large a mystery, Miel was certainly not the norm. Mirabelle broke free and opened her eyes. “Why?” “I cannot explain it myself, but I thought that you needed someone close by in that moment. I'm not an expert on affection, but a kiss has the same meaning in both of our cultures, correct? That is why.” “What you did, with your tongue, was a romantic gesture. Not a friendly one.” Mirabelle sighed, “Perhaps you are right. I simply wish you would take more care with your life. You only get one.” “Uh huh, but it's my life to lose, so let me worry about that. Order me the pizza. I'm taking a shower.” Ghost calmly walked into the bathroom and started the water. Mirabelle had no say over his life, he wasn't a pet and he wasn't a slave. A quick death to end his memories would be a blessing. He didn't want to have to relive his time on the street, scrambling for warmth and food, drinking old, dirty water. And the people around him were no better. More than once he took a life, but police refused to investigate a drug dealer's mysterious death or a druggy that took a knife to the gut. Pushing that aside, he stepped under the flow of hot water. “Ghost, may I speak?” She was outside of the bathroom, but the main door was open. The frosted glass of the shower did a well enough job of hiding his nudity, “I know you may not believe me, but I do care for your well-being.” Possible lies to get on his good side. He was useful as a tool, nothing more. Dragons had already dominated Earth, they didn't need to play nice to try anything new. So why now? Why was she pretending to be nice? The thoughts raced through his mind. Perhaps trying to lower his guard to make killing him more satisfying. Maybe it was all in his head and everything was imagined. It wasn't impossible for him to contemplate. “When you feel you can talk, I will be waiting out here. Take your time Ghost.” He had nothing but a robe and shoes. The provided hair dryer was too light to do any damage and the toilet didn't have a tank lid. Ghost resigned himself to his fate and stepped out of the shower, “I'll at least die dry.” The thought, though simple and dramatic, was comforting to the wary human. He put on his clothes, looked once in the mirror, and took a moment to think. His skin was in pretty good shape, a few scars here and there were hidden by the growing stubble. His eyes were no longer bloodshot, his hair wasn't dirty, and his muscles didn't ache. A full stomach and a soft bed to rest was all he needed. Ghost's mind wandered briefly to ancient civilizations where warriors would use oils to make themselves presentable to the gods after death, but he was never an oil man. With a slow, deep breath, he left the bathroom. Mirabelle was sitting on the bed next to a silver cart of food, including a deluxe pizza. On closer inspection, and after the adrenaline wore off, Ghost noticed that she was wearing her souveneir t-shirt and boxer underwear. No armor, no weapons. He couldn't make heads or tails of this turn of events, “The room service waiter was very prompt, under orders of the manager no doubt. Is everything to your liking?” A bucket of ice and wine sat on the end table, “What are you up to? Why not just kill me now? Why toy with me?” She looked down, ashamed and embarassed, “I know what you must think given your past, but I assure you I am not toying with you. In fact, I would like to confess something. Unfortunately, I cannot find the right words.” The door wasn't blocked, he could have easily ran out. But to where? He would have been hunted down eventually, tried as a traitor or something and executed anyway. The rebel humans would kill him for not attacking the dragons to start, and nobody else would dare shelter him, “Speak.” “I find myself... attracted to you. As a man. Not as a human.” Unexpected, but it was no time to lower his guard, “That's just because you spend time around me.” “No, that's not the whole story. When we first met, you punched my dragon. While I saw this as a threat initially, I realized that it was the act of a reckless man. To punch a beast that could devour you with a single bite is bravery that no common man could claim to have. Then you proved yourself with your honesty and loyalty. Never once have you broken a law or caused trouble since I've know you, even with your past. Then you got rid of my horrid arranged husband.” “I never admitted to that.” The look on her face was priceless, a comedian in a movie couldn't have shown such sarcastic disbelief, “Oh, but you didn't have to. Nobody else would dare such a bold action. And because of that, I was grateful enough to do whatever you would have asked of me. Still, you asked for nothing. You did what you did from the good of your soul. You are brave and kind, one could not ask for more.” Mirabelle sounded genuine, but Ghost wasn't sold. If she was telling the truth, he had few options to avoid her. He wasn't well versed in romance and it certainly hadn't been on his mind in a very long time. Mirabelle had been forced to marry, but she was never in love. Ghost was convinced they both knew little about what was happening, but at least Mirabelle was trying. He muttered quietly, “How can I get out of this...” He said it, but he knew that he wasn't getting out of anything. This was happening whether he wanted to or not, “We are friendly now, correct?” She wasn't wrong, but Ghost saw a weakness in her argument. She was trying to replace something she never had with something new. It was all becoming clear, and he didn't plan on becoming a regret again, “Tell me, how long does one typically wait before beginning a new relationship?” The calm and collected response clearly distracted Mirabelle from her train of thought, “Well, I suppose whenever the person is ready to move on.” “No, that is a common misconception that many have. It often leads to pain and suffering, broken friendships, and hatred of one another. You're trying to move on too fast while hiding your wounds. If,” Ghost had to choose his words carefully as he didn't hate Mirabelle, “You wish to pursue romance with someone like me, then you will have to work through your own issues first.” Mirabelle looked disappointed, but also like she understood what he meant completely, “I see. That is certainly a valid point. Still, I would prefer if you didn't put yourself in harms way in the near future.” Ghost jammed his thumb into his own chest and was about to yell, but he calmed his nerves, “It is my life to throw away as I see fit. He wasn't going to shoot anyway.” He picked up a plate of some food or another and sat down. Some pretentious dish meant to entice tourists while creating a huge profit margin for the company as a whole. Lots of pointless decoration for a chunk of chicken. Mirabelle smiled, “He could have, then I would have lost a friend.” She picked up the wine and struggled to open the bottle. Ghost sighed and took off his shoe, “Watch.” Placing the bottle into the foot hole, he cautiously bumped the shoe against the wall a few times, not enough to pop open the bottle, but enough to get the cork in an easy to grab position. Mirabelle smiled again, “You show me kindness without trying, you know that?” Something of hers made a tone, something peaceful yet alerting. All in all, bizarre, “Hmm...” She picked a cell phone, or the dragon equivalent at least, out of her bag and checked the message. A wave of relief washed over Ghost as he didn't have to delay her advances anymore, “Finally.” Ghost was about to walk away when suddenly Mirabelle's tone changed from playful to serious, “Tell me about your past, Ghost. I think I deserve that much.” He knew what she was talking about, “Gloria, I assume.” His ex-girlfriend, and according to him, the start of his downward spiral, “Ask away.” “She claims to know you well and is asking about you. She seemed quite concerned to the guards.” “Like hell she is.” Ghost was about to slam his fist into the wall, but stopped himself short and just placed the heel of his hand on the colorful paint scheme, “A manipulative bitch that wants what she wants and to hell with everyone else. Only reason she's trying to contact me again is because my face was probably on the news after that incident with the shooter. Gold digging harpy.” With that, Mirabelle's facial features relaxed and the concern was genuine, “What happened between you two?” “For starters, she cheated on me. Stole my money to get a hotel for a few nights, said she was spending time with her family. Lied to my face about it, then tried to make me feel guilty for her cheating. Lied about things, rape, pregnancy, all of that. Ruined my reputation and smiled about it.” He was maintaining a calm aura about him, trying to recount the facts as academically as possible, “Then when she was caught in her lies, she tried to make it seem as though I started them. Everyone believes a whore that'll go down on you for a lie.” “So your family also believed this?” “Anything to discredit me. I did everything I could with my limited resources, including getting through college with my problems and working my ass off to pay for their bills. My sister was always the favorite, a failure of failures. Got knocked up by a stranger and suddenly she can do no wrong. So when rumors arose about me not being perfect, they jumped on the wagon and spread their own. Even kicked me out after I stood up to them.” “And now you're here, with me, in a hotel room. An odd change of life, isn't it?” She stood up and took a few steps closer, “I won't kick you out, and I will help you fight the demons of your past. That is what friends do.” “Friends. Can't say I've had many of those, so I don't know what to expect-” Mirabelle hugged him. She was a full foot taller than Ghost, and from her general demeanor she didn't appear to be the hugging type, but it was happening. Almost instinctually, Ghost started to move his arms around her waist. He stopped at the last second and pulled away, “That's a good start. Come, tomorrow we'll head back and begin fixing you and your past.” “I'm not fixable, but feel free to try what you want.” He picked up another mini bottle of liquor, “Cheers.”