Jennie isn’t the image of the small child Irene has in the depths of her mind, piecing together bits and pieces of floating memories that she still retains despite the decade that has gone by. The little girl that Irene remembers has grown to become a beautiful young lady, elegant underneath clothes that desperately cling onto the hopes of hiding the truth, body long and leanly built with curves residing in all of the right places.

“You haven’t changed a bit, Irene. Except, a little darker than I remember,” Jennie says with a grin playing at the corners of pink lips.

Irene’s tongue refuses to form the words wanting to spill out from between her teeth (a barrage of questions and statements that Irene’s not sure if she wants to reveal) that she stands and stares blankly without a reaction.

She’s brought back to life with a soft touch along the crook of her arm, tentative and unsure that Irene instinctively reaches up to place a reassuring hand on top of delicate fingers. The fingers momentarily twitch, then stills, warm against Irene’s skin and warring against cool autumn wind.

Irene finally finds her voice, coming out smooth and clear as if she hadn’t been struggling to utter a single syllable a minute ago. “Can’t say I can say the same for you.”

Jennie rocks on her heels, emerald eyes shining brightly like gems in a face of perfection (the only feature that Irene can vividly remember). Her skin glows a familiarly ethereal light, abnormally pale like fresh snow, and just as beautiful. Her small smile reveals canines pointed to precision, just as sharp as Irene’s had been before her transformation.

“I never thought you’d actually put your talent to use,” Jennie says, expression that of a proud mother’s. “As expected, you’re pretty whether you’re human or vampire, Irene.”

Irene’s acutely aware of the tightening of fingers against the crook of her elbow, beginning to dig into sensitive flesh that Irene smooths a thumb over whitening knuckles, giving silent comfort to an unnaturally silent Seulgi.

“Girlfriend, Irene? Already?” Jennie teases.

Irene’s cheeks burn red. She knows because she can feel it, what seems to be all of the blood in her body rushing to that one part of her that’s visible for all to see and tease about. It feels strange. That’s never happened before. She tries desperately to make a comeback, clearing and replying with a typically flirty wink. “Not yet.”

Seulgi makes a sound akin to that of choking, this time nails digging into Irene’s skin rather than soft pads of fingertips. Irene winces, prying off damaging claws from her arm, hand wrapping around fingers in an attempt to keep them from causing further pain.

Jennie laughs, a tinkling sound that brushes past the ear like a caress, soft and light, and Irene joins her.

Seulgi’s not sure what to think at this point. Irene’s been holding her hand, fingers curling around her own, and Seulgi’s been letting her; if only because of the silent unease that crawls up her spine and spreads throughout her limbs at the sight of a vampire. Seulgi knows enough to know what a vampire looks like, and this Jennie is most definitely one.

Irene acts as if Jennie doesn’t bother her, whoever Jennie is to her, but Seulgi can feel the small tremors running through Irene’s body, and the solid, constant tenseness in muscles like an arrow ready to fly. Their conversation has been cordial, almost like an unexpected meeting of old friends, but there’s something deeper, something more potent that anyone could feel and see and hear that Seulgi’s more than sharp enough to pick up on.

It puts her on edge, the underlying meaning of this strange meeting and falsely light conversation, that has Seulgi drawing closer to the warmth that Irene now undoubtedly gives off in waves of comfort that Seulgi would never have imagined possible coming from what she saw as vampire scum.

Saw. Past tense. When did her thoughts become that of the past? Even if Irene is human now, it doesn’t mean she’s clean of all sins vampire commit. She’d been one before, a cunning, bloodthirsty animal, and Irene being human now doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t. Seulgi has to believe that.

“What’s your name, pretty lady?”

Seulgi finds herself staring blankly into shimmering emerald eyes, eyes that dance and spark, and it’s mesmerizing - almost as mesmerizing as Irene’s eyes of an autumn sky and the blue flame of electricity had been.

Seulgi scrabbles in desperation for the small bit of pride she has left, pulling away from Irene (though not by much) then clearing as she slides her hands into warm coat pockets. She stands up straighter and erases the inch of fear that had crept into her mind and displayed itself through her body language then says, “Seulgi. Kang Seulgi. And you are?”

Jennie’s perfectly arched brow rises slightly, amusement pulling at the corners of her lips. “Jennie Kim. It’s nice to meet you. I can see why Irene’s so infatuated with you.”

Seulgi feels the walls she’d built up crumble like a child’s sandcastle; feels heat spread fire in her ears and words stick in the deep recesses of , choking for air that abandoned her.

“Shut it, you baby vamp!” Irene yells, hand coming down to slap Seulgi on the back repeatedly.

Seulgi finally regains her breath, oxygen filtering down her lungs like it’s supposed to, and the coughing receding to a mere hiccup. Jennie’s apologizing through bursts of giggles, though not moving any closer than before.

“Why are you here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be in the States? You staying here for good?” Irene asks, hand steady on the small of Seulgi’s back.

Jennie crosses her arms and leans back on her heels, the epitome of nonchalance. She hums, “Maybe. I was j