<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">She gave him an appreciative look as she took her first bite of the eggs he made, thankful for the effort he put in to surprise her. The gesture was a far cry from what she would have expected from the strange, closed-off, gruff, and prickly Hunter she met in the darkness of the Bayou. When she thought about that fateful encounter, she didn’t imagine that it would have ever flourished beyond the parameters of their shared interests. Determined as she was to keep him at arm’s length, away from the personal and private matters of her life, every moment they spent together drew them closer despite all their attempts to stop it. She was glad that whatever force brought them together ignored the stubborn barriers that stood between them, broke them down and bridged the gap that separated them. Ava smiled as he took a piece of bacon from the plate, holding it so that he could take however much he liked. After a long and enjoyable night of making love, she knew they had both worked up quite the appetite. Even she, who would normally be content to call a piece of toast a balanced meal, was excited over the appealing selection. <br/>
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Attentive eyes watched while he leaned against the headboard, seemingly surprised by the question. She was about to take it back when he began, ready to strike it from the record to spare him whatever sorrow or heartache might have accompanied the memories associated with his life before his life was upended. But, he went on to tell her of the job he held at a local music store and the restaurant that his Aunt owned. “It’s no wonder you know how to make a mean breakfast.” She smiled, hanging on his every word as he spoke of his family. It wasn’t the first time she had seen the proud gleam in his eyes at the mention of them. She recalled the same fond glow that appeared on his features in the bar, when he told her that his father was the one that taught him to play the guitar. She was always envious of those loving ties, not that she didn’t have them with her own family. Somehow they were reminders that <i>someone</i> didn’t want to share those moments with her, teach her things, or guide her in life. The sting that came along with that realization had long dulled, becoming nothing more than a faint ache that was easily ignored-- especially when he leaned over to grab his wallet. <br/>
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She couldn’t help but smirk at the various cards he sifted through, the false names on them. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who took up aliases in order to keep under the radar, though the reference in the name was lost on her. Her brow raised as he glanced over to her, an odd look in his eyes. “Of course not. I won’t--” He handed the ID card over to her, and she gasped. Her green eyes filled with mirth as she clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling the melody of the laughter she nearly promised not to release. “Oh my goodness . . .” She practically squealed. “Look at you! You’re a baby.” Ava couldn’t contain the pout in her voice as she took the ID, bringing it closer so that she could take in the youthful image of the new recruit in the photo. He wasn’t much younger, but it was clear that his life was untouched by the stressors of a harsh world-- that he had yet to experience the anguish of a brutal loss. It was almost as though she was looking at a different person. Still, she was amazed. “A miscreant like you was an officer of the law. I would have never guessed. It seems . . . right, though.”<br/>
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Wes had a noble sense, despite his rough and reckless ways. He had a desire to see wrongs righted, not just the heinous act that stripped him of that hopeful gleam in his eyes though it was all that consumed him once upon a time. “You’re still good at it, Wes.” She assured him, looking up from the ID. Leaning in, she pressed a kiss to his cheek before he turned the question around on her. Hunting was her life. Groomed from a young age, and educated about all the nasty, ugly creatures that went bump in the night, she didn’t have much of a chance to fantasize about normalcy. Any real thought she gave to it came as more of an unforeseen circumstance, what she might do if she were irreparably wounded or if old age prevented her from continuing. “That’s a good question . . .” She said thoughtfully, seeming to seriously consider her options for the first time. She picked up a piece of toast and took a bite, chewing for a moment before she confessed. “The truth is, I actually enjoy hunting for the same reason you wanted to be a Police Officer. Hunting really is just another form of policing-- with some very specific differences, of course. It’s also a way for me to put my visions to good use. As painful as they are they can be useful when I understand them, which is not often.” She said with a hopeless smile, tilting her head back against the headboard as she pondered again. <br/>
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“I suppose I haven’t really thought that far ahead. I know I won’t be a Hunter always. I do make a decent amount of money from selling art. Perhaps I’ll have a gallery of my own one day.” She shrugged. Those dark pieces she conjured as a means of processing her visions sold well, producing bids of inordinate amounts of money from art snobs all around the world. But, there was something so morbid about opening such a place, filled with scenes of death and darkness. By the uncertainty in her visage it was clear that she wasn’t completely married to the idea. “I don’t really know. For someone who really loves a plan, it’s hard to admit that I don’t really have one. I should.” Her parents never encouraged her to pursue a career, and she figured that it was because they were concerned that she was too sensitive to the world and its many triggers. And, truth be told, she was concerned as well. It was easy to explain away her episodes, pass them as panic attacks or seizures. With that in mind, it would have been easy to pursue a dream job and gain financial freedom. She could move out of her parent’s house and find a place of her own, but even that was a pain-point she hadn’t really addressed. The thought of living on her own . . . She assumed that it would feel too much like being back in that big, empty house, scared of the shadows and alone. <br/>
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“For now, I am perfectly fine with being The Best Grunch Slayer this side of the Red River.” She smiled, taking another bite out of her toast before she rested her head on his shoulder.</span>