I am glowering. Maybe. Honestly? I’m not sure what glowering actually means. We were some of the last ones to get pushed out of the hall. Someone dressed as a Suckling Crone had lost her shoe, so we were crawling around under the tables looking for it, but the bar staff got very uppity and insisted it was time to leave. The joke was on them though because Roxy and I carried on drinking in our room. Then I woke up clutching a dry pot noodle and had a sweet and sour taste in my mouth, so actually the joke is on me.
Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I’m feeling a little jaded, as is the norm the morning after first convention night. I can’t eat anything for fear of it coming right back up, but Roxy is chowing down, fresh as a daisy. It’s annoying. Or glowering. I don’t know. Words are hard.
I look around the restaurant at our fellow attendees stocking up on calories for the day, some inVampire Fallshoodies,some in full cosplay mode, ready for today’s photo ops. I spot Venefica and Cantatrix quietly eating breakfast together. This would not happen in real life due to their mutual status as mortal enemies being from warring enchantress factions, but I’m pretty sure these guys are in a relationship. Cute. Despite my head pounding, the familiarity of having these people around makes me feel warm.
“If you say so, babe,” says Roxy, smiling at something on her phone. She looks up at me and types at the same time. “Have you found your Bristol linguistics group on Insta yet? I’ve worked out who’s cool and who to avoid on my course already.”
“No,” I say, worry double-churning my already churned stomach. “So, we’re expected to make friends with new people before we’ve even arrived? How am I supposed to do that? I don’t come across well electronically.”
“I just used the hashtags I sent you and found a few people,” she says, not disagreeing with my statement about not coming across well. Charming. “No pressure or . . .”
A smatter of applause bubbles through the restaurant and Roxy stops. We crane our necks to see who’s come in. It’s regular for a change in atmosphere when a guest appears among the mortals, but an actor having breakfast with the civilians is unprecedented.
Then I see who it is.
Charlie Chamberlain follows the waiting staff to a table, his arm around Sadie. His right eyebrow is slightly raised, which means he didn’t sleep well. I don’t know what’s keeping him awake at night; it’s not likehisfavourite weekend’s been ruined.He’s wearing aVampire FallsT-shirt that I gave him for his birthday three years ago.Sacrilege. Sadie is wearing a matching one, so they actually look adorable, which is annoying. They sit down at a table set for three people: him, Sadie and . . .
“Oh yeah, Vivian’s here,” Roxy cheerfully reminds me. “Shelooks great this morning, right?”
“Average,” I say, frowning as the server pulls a chair out for her. “Why didn’t he do that for me? He practically pushed me into my seat. Outrageous.”
“Probably thought you were going to faint. You look like dog shit.”
“I love you too.” Roxy blows me a kiss and I look back at Charlie Chamberlain and co. “Why do you think she’s here? She’s not a Faller.”
“Maybe Charlie needed help with Sadie.”
“She’s not exactly Mary Poppins,” I say, watching her apply lipstick using the reflection in her knife.
“She would make ahotMary Poppins,” says Roxy, biting her lip.
“Ew,” I say, taking a mouse-sized bite from my croissant. “Gag.”
A couple of people with vampire fangs go up to Charlie Chamberlain’s table and clap him on the back. He stands up to talk to them, like he’s just won a golf tournament or something.
“When is everyone going to drop the hero worship. So, Charlie Chamberlain knows the Heimlich manoeuvre. OK: big deal.”
“DVS nearly choked to death, babe.”
“We can’t say for sure he would have chokedto death.Don’t you get all dramatic as well.”
“Sorry, you’re right. Charlie should have left him, just to see what happened,” she says, sipping her coffee.
“Well, everyone’s making such a big deal,” I say, watching Charlie Chamberlain sit down then stand back up when an old couple go over to him. “They’re obsessed.”
“Yeah,” says Roxy. “Obsessed.”
I look back at her. She has her elbows on the table, staring at me with her hands clasped together, like a therapist. Or a supervillain.
“What?”
“Nothing, my love,” she says. “Nothing at all.”
I pull the Jawfain onesie hood over my head then pick at my deflated croissant. I reach for my glass, which is empty (why are hotel breakfast glasses like thimbles? Don’t they know people are dehydrated?), so start to get up when I realise Roxy is still staring at me.
“What now?”
“Nothing,” she says, then leans forward and flicks one of the ears on my hood. “You look cute in this.”
