Scent Of Lemon
"Mitchel! You're an old man now, aren't you?" Patrick gasped.
"An old man having a crush? That's a bit…" Freeda shrugged her shoulders, avoiding their awaiting glances.
Evelina threw her head back, laughing at having to shove the spotlight towards the human. And their first question was that? Ah, the misfortunes of looking old even at such an age.
"I'm not that old." He rolled his eyes, proceeding to take the sweet potato from Sybil. He arrogantly took a bite of it, his gaze distant. "Although," Mitchel gulped, "I also think that romance is too far fetched for me. I still have a family to find, remember?"
She recalled the old days when they knew Mitchel only as a trespasser, a runaway. He was harsh when he came to know that those around him were witches, refusing to tell his problems with the beings. And he thought… he thought of the vampiress as someone just like him.
Those moments did sound like something she had also done.