The Vampire's Donor

"I will be sure not to. I know my limits, so I will sit down if I need to. Besides, I am sure no matter how much cleaning I do I will be more than willing to cook. If anything happens to effect the way I am able to do my job I will let you know," she smiled and set the mug down on her now empty plate.

She lifted her dishes and walked over to the sink, rinsing them of before leaving them there. She had decided that seconds would probably be a bad idea at the moment because she didn't wanna make herself sick. "I had to take a couple of night classes just to qualify for my last job. I do agree about it being boring, I am pretty sure I slept through one of the lectures," she shrugged as she made her way back to the table.
 
Camphor nodded, watching the female move to the sink and rinse her plate. He gave a small smile before shaking his head at this. It might have been the difference of culture or how the female was growing up but Camphor was fascinated on how she hold herself. She could have just placed the plate on the sink and let him clean it after. Eating another sausage to keep himself silent, his shoulders shook in silent laughter at her stating she slept through a lecture.

He was still munching on the his food when his phone started ringing. The said gadget was surprisingly not in his pocket but was placed above the refrigerator. Camphor just looked up but did not bother answering it. It was rude to have a phone while eating. "Leave it," he muttered, in case Miss Claire thought it would helpful to grab it and give it to him.
 
"What if it is important? Maybe something in regards to your classes," she suggested as she sunk into her seat. Her elbow planted itself on the table and her hand gave her a place to set her head. It was an odd feeling being in the place you would call home while at the same time feeling so unfamiliar with the space, not to mention, she couldn't think of anything to keep the conversation going which didn't help ease the awkward new feeling of eating at the table with someone.

Part of her began to wonder just how long this would last. By nature, she would most likely be stuck here because of what she knows about Camphor, but if she were to become a problem in any way what is to say she doesn't get fired and watched for the rest of her life to make sure that she wasn't spreading his secret. It seemed ridiculous to think that way though because they seemed to get along so well, and Camphor seemed to think the low iron wasn't so much of an issue, instead it was just a small hiccup that they would work to fix together.
 
"Nah," the male stated. "The person calling is going to barge in this room in less than an hour and would be raising hell like no other." He continued to chomp on his breakfast as the song immediately stops mid-chorus only to light up again. "Never mind, the dude will be here in five minutes or less," he laughed. He mentally braced himself for the grand entrance of his self appointed nutritionist.

Once the third call started, the doors to the house banged open. "Camphor, you fuck! When someone is calling you, answer the damned phone like your life depends on it! Just because you are basically immortal does not mean that your other friends are." The voice grew louder and louder, an indication that whoever the intruder was, he was coming to the pair's direction. "And why fuck does it smell like the sick just came and pranced around like they owned the place? And why the F~ oh, you're eating." The blond who entered the kitchen was pale, yes, but had a better complexion than the black-haired male sitting across Claire. Instead of black or the scarlet red for eyes, the person had the brightest of blues. He was of the same height and build as Camphor but his aura was that of a frivolous donkey's.

"Good morning to you, too, Hawthorne," the male greeted, grabbing the plate of bacon and sliding some to his plate again. "Food."

The said male, Hawthorne, gnashed his fangs together before marching to the cabinets where the plates are located. When he turned around, that was the only time he noticed the 'walking disease'. Hawthorne became the a hematologist because he could actually smell what was wrong in the blood. "Good morning, lady," he chirped. "You might be Camphor's new employee?"

Camphor, looking at Claire, just blinked slowly and gave an apologetic smile.
 
Claire thought this was a hell of a first impression. Suddenly, she understood how Camphor was able to be pushed on this chef post that had gotten her here in the first place. If all his friends were of this demeanor and energy level, she was definitely in for an adventure. Camphor's apologetic look made her feel a bit better, but she wasn't sure how much of this boisterous personality she could take. While she was always kind in general, she was still a bit tired and unused to the whole situation. Do all of his friends just barge in like this, or was I just lucky this morning?

She took a deep breath before turning to the man and starting the exchange of pleasantries. "Hello, I am. My name is Claire. I believe that I am the "sick that pranced around" as you said," she offered a smile and extended her hand in his direction as she rose from her seat, "Lovely to meet you. Hawthorne wasn't it?"
 
"A beautiful name, really," the blond muttered, his fangs gleaming under the light. "Yes, baptised with that name." He would have taken thee beauty's wrist and kissed her knuckles if it were not for the smell of her sickness and the wound on her wrist. With a seductive smirk, he took the offered hand and shook it. "Since I will be the professional to see through your... I really can't say recovery... health, maybe? Either way, I have a few questions and you are free to answer them."

The black-haired male rolled his eyes, watching as the blond ignore Claire for a moment to prioritize breakfast. It was nice to have Hawthorne around but to actually get down to business like this all the while during eating was something else. Dread and nervousness suddenly settled in Camphor's gut. It was rather confusing as to why he was nervous. Hawthorne was not asking him. "Could this not be delayed until she is settled?" he asked.

"No," Hawthorne stated, blue eyes meeting the other vampire's black ones. "I have things to do later. I just came in to make sure you, of all people, is still moving around."

"Claire, if you are not comfortable with his questions it's alright to outright say it. The dude will not be offended."
 
"What is life without a little discomfort right Cam...phor," her cheeks flushed a light shade of pink as she corrected her use of a nickname. "I am more than willing to answer any questions you have as long as this questionnaire doesn't involve you taking a sample," she tried to joke.

It was odd, to have someone just come into a situation such as this, especially when he seemed so eager to leave. At least he seemed like a nice person, albeit having a bit of a tense air between himself and Camphor. She wondered if the tension was present in any room where the people he considered friends were, but that knowledge would have to come with her time here. Maybe breakfast wasn't as awkward as she initially felt it was. "If you need doctor's slips or anything I can bring them to you. Just let me know to request them."
 
Again, the blond looked down at Camphor. Those blue eyes twinkled a bit before shaking his head. "Only questions, love, I do not take in samples," he stated. "What type of Anemia you are experiencing?"

Camphor stared at the other vampire with a raised brow. Camphor only thought of Anemia as something that has low-blood pressure and complications to the blood. He did not know there were actually types. It was also unnerving to have Hawthorne speak so professionally in an informal environment. He shook his head, keeping his mouth shut. Maybe if he did not give out comments, the blond would get what he needs and leaves earlier than what was scheduled.

"No, no. I get the slips," the blue-eyed wonder laughed. "But it is better to ask weird questions. Ah, I forgot. What medicines did they give you? Are they regular or just when you'll about to faint?"
 
"Iron deficiency anemia," she shrugged, "They just told me to take iron and vitamin d3 supplements which I have out in one of my bags in the car. In case you wanted to see the amount of mg and such. I take them every day, once a day. Usually, I take them before bed just to make sure it is after I have eaten. They say if I stay consistent with it all that I should hit my upswing within the year."

Claire squirmed a bit in her seat. She felt like she was being asked all the personally invasive questions the doctor asks when you come in with a new illness even though these where questions she felt like she had answered a million times. Maybe if they were somewhere a bit more "medical" she wouldn't have felt so odd about it, but instead, they were in Camphor's kitchen. In the home she was to move into that day. Not to mention the fact that they had all been eating not even minutes earlier. "Anything else?"
 
"Allergies, maybe? And the side effects if you're taking your medicines and maintenance," Hawthorne stated. He sliced through the egg and took a small bite before grabbing a chair and sitting next to Camphor. "How many times have you had vertigo this past week and the likes."

Camphor clicked his tongue before shaking his head. This was not the proper time to be asking that but he could not control his friend from firing off questions. For as long as the blonde's voice does not turn cold, Claire was still fine. Hawthorne had the tendency to ask questions that was offensive and downright insulting. Camphor prayed to every deity he know that was not the case for this girl. It had been too long since he interacted with someone not falling for the charms easily. "Haw," he started.

"Don't even try to interrupt and distract me, Cam...phor," he mimicked how Clair said the male's name earlier. Even if he did not show it, he noticed how, in a day or two, these two somehow looked close. "Better we have her spilling the tea than you panicking like she is about to die when she does faint from overworking."

Camphor growled at that. "I know how to handle that. Get that food down you throat and maybe you can help us in getting her settled."

"Mean," Hawthorne pouted jokingly. As much as they insult or trash talk each other, the two would never betray the other. "I am going to eat my food and get my ass out of here before both of your gets touchy with each other," he corrected. "I'll then give you list of food that she is allowed to have and those she can't." He turned to the topic. "I know you can take care of yourself, love, but we have other~!"

"Don't talk like she is a pet, Haw."

Hawthorne gave a tight smile at that before biting a strip of bacon, finally shutting up. His eyes were still on the beauty then, waiting for her to answer his previous questions."
 
Claire caught herself biting her lip to keep a couple of laughs down as the boys bounced off each other. Hawthorne's mimicry of the way she had said Camphor's name earlier made her go straight face as her cheeks flushed. At least he knew her blood was still circulating. She did manage to offer Camphor a soft smile to thank him for defending her.

"No allergies, and I haven't dealt with any side effects from the vitamin taking. I had trouble a bit yesterday, but nothing too serious. Otherwise, I cannot recall certain events where I experienced vertigo, but to me, that just means it is getting less severe. Sometimes I erect myself too quickly and have to sit back down to level my head, but that seems like it might have nothing to do with my deficiency. More with the fact I move so fast, my brain smacks my skull," she shrugged.

Where she would've cracked a joke or offered a laugh to Camphor, she kept bland with Hawthorne. To be fair, the man was acting as if he was consulting her for a check-up, so there was no real way for her to try and make it casual. Plus, she didn't really know the guy. "I have changed my diet before and it doesn't help. If you give me a list, sure I will read it over, but I cannot promise you that I will stick to it."
 
Hawthorne waved off the last statement. At least this girl has a better fighting chance than most of his patients. "You already knows what is good for you, honey. I'll just enumerate a few to your lover boy here what are best for iron absorption and iron-rich crap itself," he explained.

"Just text me the fucking list," Camphor mumbled. He downed his coffee and took his plate and eating utensils to the sink. "Claire, you did say you still have some stuff in your car, right? Let's get them inside the house," he suggested. His attention went back to the munching vampire doctor. "You clean up the mess and wash the dishes." With that order, he was already leading the female away from the kitchen as Hawthorne tried to call for them.

"I really apologize for that. It was my fault,"Camphor confessed once they were out of the kitchen and towards the entrance of the house. He grabbed one of the umbrella on the stand, opened the door, and waited for the beauty to step out and lead them to the car even if the said vehicle was visible.
 
She took a few steps out ahead of him in the direction of her car. "It is no problem really. Sure, it was a bit odd especially since it was so sudden, but I do not blame you at all." Her hand squeezed the keys in her pocket and unlocked her car as she took the final steps to it.

As her hand wrapped around the door handle she spoke again, "It does seem like your friend has misjudged our situation though. Calling you lover boy, unless he is just reading the room and taking more from the flirtatious behavior we barely exampled in front of him. Should I expect to meet anyone else soon?" She pulled one of the bags from her backseat and set it on the ground at her feet before leaning further into the backseat to grab the other bag.
 
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Opening the umbrella, the vampire followed his companion. He was a few steps behind her when she forgave his blunder. "I really do not know," Camphor frowned. As much as a drama queen Hawthorne was, the others were unpredictable. "They come by unannounced and enter through unusual means," he mused. "I just wish they do not crawl into your room in the middle of the night like a bunch of thieves."

A smile graced his features then. "Having a new face walking around the house, as pretty as yours, mind you, would make everyone assume those, love." He winked at that, moving to her bent frame and lightly bumping his hips on hers. "I am not complaining though," he laughed.
 
She shook her head and laughed with him. "If they do, I cannot promise my first impression will be a good one. Sure, I am a deep sleeper, but on the off chance I do wake up I may throw something at them," she slung the bag over her shoulders and reached down to grab the second one in order to allow herself to close the car door. Once the door was shut, she gestured back in the direction of the house with her free hand and locked her car, waiting to walk alongside Camphor.

"It was probably me almost calling you Cam which I apologize for. Tell me this, do all of your friends have an affinity for pretty things, or am I just lucky enough to be living with the one person who does?" she teased.
 
Grabbing the bag near him and taking what the lady was holding, Camphor was walking beside her for the short walk back to the house. He winced slightly when he adjusted the things he was holding and the umbrella tilted a bit. "Throw the hardest most damaging thing you have at them," he laughed. He loved his friends, true, but sometimes, he just wants to bury them in his garden.

"Call me Cam or anything really. Hawthorne is always like that," he gave a soft groan at that. "Friends have different preferences. Some goes for the rainbows and sunshine, others go for the seductive, big-girl sorts. Some even just wing it and would go for anything really." He laughed then, covering his embarrassment at her statement. "It's the tutors I am afraid of you meeting."
 
"Ah, the tutors," her interest peaked, "do tell. I would love to hear about them so I know how to handle them when they finally come around because I don't think throwing something at them will work during business hours." She laughed softly. It was nice to know that he wasn't offended by any nickname, and that meant she could try something new anytime and see what made him blush.

"Hawthorne is something," she paused, "He seems like he has good intentions, but now wasn't really the time for him. I can go ahead to grab the door so that the umbrella doesn't shift again." She hoped that the way she phrased her offer made it seem generous rather than demeaning because her intention was just to be helpful. If she would have asked for the bag back she knew he probably would've brushed her off and said everything was fine despite that not being the whole truth.
 
Camphor had opened his mouth and was ready to give advises on how to interact with the tutors when a light bulb dinged in his mind. Like a fish out of water, his lips opened and closed, mind already checking if Sir Acon actually hurt someone because of spite. None. “You know what… I think I’ll give you a dagger and see if you can actually hurt Sir Acon. Throw it at his face, please,” he muttered, mind still on another plane. “Am serious. Try and get him hurt.” He blinked rapidly, giving a nervous laugh. “If you ever heard of Rosada Evergreen or Aconite Bane, then you will know why I said that. But if your unfamiliar with them, Madame Rosada works in the city’s library and is actually quite friendly. That is if you could survive her frigid questions for fifteen minutes. Sir Acon, on the other hand…” he shuddered at that. “Let’s just say, the coach is a walking, talking ball of energy and chaos. I do not know what the best advice is. Running is useless. So maybe just seat through his yapping?” He was not sure.

“That bastard will tease you no matter what,” he informed. Chuckling with amusement, he gave the go signal of her opening the door for him. “A bit reversed in the situation but I’ll let it slide,” he joked, thinking that he should be the one opening the door to the lady.
 
She shook her head and opened the door, "No problem. I wouldn't expect you to be rushing to open the door because you're already carrying stuff that belongs to me. I don't think I should get violent towards people, however, I am really good at pretending to listen when people refuse to shut up. While I might be a little annoyed, I am sure that I can deal with it, or I could come up with some excuse to get me or the both of us out of the lecture he is providing."

Claire held the door open with her leg and used her hand to brush some stray strands of hair from her face. "As long as your other friends don't come in the house making it sound like I am the most offensive thing they have ever smelled, I am sure that it will be fine. If you step out, or want to step out, I can keep them entertained as if I was the host of some fancy party because that's something that comes easily to me. At least, it does now because of my job history and requirements to interact with all sorts of people in a respectful manner."
 
Camphor laughed at that, moving inside to see Hawthorne removing the apron and tossing it somewhere before coming and grabbing the bag from Camphor's hand. He didn't say anything as he leaned on the wall to have the owner of the house lead them to wherever the things were supposed to be. "No need to be rude," the black-haired male smirked at his blond counterpart. "Also, Claire. Like stated earlier, Hawthorne is the only one without any filters. The other know how to keep their opinions for themselves."
"Ugh, you already know why I'm doing this," the other vampire muttered, rolling his eyes before grabbing the other bag near the kitchen. He silently followed the two up the stairs to one of the empty rooms only to raise a brow. One look at the room and he already knew who has cleaned the mess.
It was also amusing how friendly Camphor was to the female. Usually, he would be cold and distant, giving off comments much harsher than Hawthorne's usual insults. This walking blood-bag would be an interesting addition to the collection. He was willing to bet with Camphor on how long he was going to keep Miss Claire here. That was, if Camphor was not already contemplating of becoming the girl's mate.
 
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