She didn't want him at all; she never had and she never would. It wasn't that she wasn't ready for a relationship; she just didn't want one with him. The sharp blade of betrayal cut open another wound for him to bleed from. The memories he carried with him of the afterlife were obviously flawed, most likely nothing more than skewed visions of his hopes and dreams.

Markus: "You told him he had to be here by 7:30, right?"
Tristan: "What?"
Markus: "James. You told him to be here by 7:30?"
Tristan: "Actually I told him to be here by quarter after so this wouldn't happen."
Markus: "I hope he gets out of this phase soon, it's getting old."
Tristan: "It's been old for a few months now."

Markus: "What the hell is his problem, anyway?"
Tristan: "Mortality."
Markus: "He's not mortal."
Tristan: "Exactly."

Markus: "Ah, gotcha. Is this some sort of vampiric midlife crisis?"
Tristan: "That just about sums it up."
Markus: "Did you have one?"
Tristan: "I think it's safe to say I've lapped myself quite a few times now."

Markus: "You need to relax. Have a drink or two."
Tristan: "Are you kidding? We're supposed to be doing a show in a few minutes!"
Markus: "I'm serious. You don't have to get wasted, just enough to settle your nerves."
Tristan: "I'm not nervous."
Markus: "Maybe not, but you're damn awful uptight."

Markus tossed a small silver flask to Tristan, who grabbed it right before it connected between his eyes. He cautiously unscrewed the cap, hesitantly smelling the contents.

Tristan: "Chopin?"
Markus: "Yep. Keep the flask, I brought it for you."
Tristan: "Er, thanks."

Tristan took a long drink, wincing against the oddly oily burn of the alcohol in his throat.

Markus: "So… I know you can sing. Ready to do this as a two-piece?"
Tristan: "Sure Markus. I'll sing and play both guitars at the same time. I've gotten quite adept at playing 'Every Breath You Take' with my toes."
Markus: "Have you ever actually listened to the lyrics? Not exactly a love song."
Tristan: "Stalkers feel love, too."

Tristan shifted his weight back toward the wall in an undisguised attempt to halt the conversation. Markus obliged him for a few minutes, returning to quietly staring into the hallway.

He could feel the vodka's effects starting already and took one last long drink before replacing the cap and closing his eyes, turning in on his own head and effectively shutting out the world.

The respite was short lived.

Deanna: "Any sign of James yet? The natives are getting restless."
Markus: "I don't think he's gonna show."
Deanna: "The bride is going to blow a gasket if someone doesn't get some entertainment out there. If James wants to pout some more, that's fine. I'll just take his place for now."
Tristan: "What?"

Deanna: "I said I'll sing. Markus, you can play the bass, right?"
Markus: "I can fake it reasonably well, yeah."
Deanna: "Great. Tristan, take over lead guitar. We can just hook up the laptop and use it as a sort of drum machine and we're set. We may not be perfect, but we can get this done."
Tristan: "Since when--"

Deanna: "I bet you have an incredible voice, Tristan, but with the way you're sulking I have a feeling there's nothing on this earth that could get you to get up on that stage and sing in front of all those people. Hell you never even sang in front of me at the best of times."
Tristan: "I'm not sulking."
Deanna: "I just want to help out if I can. If you'll let me."
Tristan: "I can't see that we have much choice."

Tristan pretended not to see the look Markus shot him.

Markus: "Deanna, it'll be an honor."