How the hell much did he have to drink last night? And why was it that even as a vampire, immortal and powerful, he still got hangovers? Something about that just didn't seem fair. At least he was waking up alone and not next to random floozy, though it might be nice to have some breakfast.

His stomach churned. Maybe not.

He picked himself up off the floor and made his way into the bathroom where he turned the shower on as hot as it would go. The smell of the bar he'd been in was clinging to him, making him want to retch. He paused after stepping in the shower, the hot water streaming over his body, a memory trying to cohere in his head.

The bar. Something about the bar he'd been at. Or maybe the people in the bar?

Chris: "Oh FUCK!"

The memory came hurtling back at him, hitting him full force. His mind went reeling as the realization of what had happened earlier that night began to sink in.

Chris: "Oh fuckity fuck..."

He started laughing then, the truly maniacal sound of one who knows they're going to die in a really unpleasant sort of way. After he regained his composure, he finished his shower and dressed, his mind still racing.

Maybe he had time to get out of town... A quick glance at the windows and the swiftly rising sun told him otherwise. Maybe the vampires hadn't been successful. It was possible- they were really young and inexperienced, plus Stone had at least five other people there with him that night. He suddenly realized how stupid it was to hope that Stone actually had survived.

He walked into his room, pacing back and forth trying to come up with a plan of action. He couldn't sit around all day not knowing if Stone was alive or dead, and if he was alive if he knew who'd sent the vampires after him. He had to call him, but needed an excuse just in case he was alive and actually answered the phone.

Chris: "'Goooood morning, Mr. Stone! Just wondering if you'd managed to survive any vampire attacks lately? Yes? Jolly good to hear it, sir! I, of course, had nothing to do with it! I'll let you get on with your day then!' Bloody hell..."

He could call and hang up, but he was fairly certain Stone had caller id. What if he pretended it was an accident? That he'd dialed the wrong number by mistake?

Chris: "'Sorry, thought you were the pizza place.' Yeah, at 6Am. Brilliant."

Suddenly the answer dawned on him. He took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and dialed the number.

Chris: "Mr. Stone?"
Andy: "Chris?"

Ok, so he'd survived. That was established. Now he just had to see if he could figure out just how much he suspected.

Chris: "Sorry to disturb you so early in the morning, but I wanted to get something clear about the job you hired me for."
Andy: "Yes?"
Chris: "I know you've set up clear barriers for Mary McMally, but what of her friends? How much am I allowed to mess with them in order to get to her?"

He believed himself, he only hoped he was as convincing to Stone. There was a slight hesitation on the other end of the line.

Andy: "Emily Laine is mine, leave her out of it."

Well he'd already messed that up, then. Not much he could do about it now.

Chris: "Understood. Just wanted to be clear."
Andy: "Is there anything else?"
Chris: "No, that just about covers it."
Andy: "Chris..."
Chris: "Yes, Mr. Stone?"
Andy: "Unless it's an emergency, don't ever call me this early in the morning again."
Chris: "Yes, sir."

The line went dead. Chris hung the phone up, then stared at it for a few minutes. He couldn't tell if Stone knew anything or not. He didn't seem at all like a person who'd had four vampires break into his house and try to kill him- he sounded just as cool and collected as he always did. Paranoia began to creep into Chris' brain- maybe Stone knew exactly what he'd done and was toying with him, trying to get him to worry himself into making a fatal mistake.

He pulled the covers back on his bed and got in. No use in fretting about it now, with the sun coming up he was pretty much stuck where he was for the time being. He decided to just go about doing the job he'd been hired for- if Stone was going to torture him, there was nothing he could do about it anyway. Tonight, right after sunset, he'd stop by and see the girl. A week was a long time to go between visits.