<i>I never said this was going to be easy.</i><br/><br/>That's what he should have said, because he was thinking the words over and over again in the back of his mind. The heart did often wrestle with the mind when it came to logic. James was still convinced at himself that this time he really would spend his days alone, since a majority of his life had been spent chasing dreams and wonders. And yet the addict's mind was still unfurling around the uncanny. There was still much in the world that he had yet to learn. That alone was what kept his engine going, even during those times when he thought it was a done deal. He still carried around an epi pen with him in the event of an emergency. It was tucked inside his wallet, which lay with the crumpled mess of his jeans on the floor of her room.<br/><br/>He grinned again, despite himself, when she started speaking about the sensation of knowing him. If his intuition was correct – and it usually was – he would have an official answer tomorrow. The alchemist said nothing for the time being in response to her quiet musings and instead turned his body on the bed so that he could once more wrap his arms around her diminutive frame. It was an instinctive response on his part, him being a tactile creature besides.<br/><br/>However, he shifted them both around on the bed so that he could sort out the situation with the covers. One hand groped for the sheet and comforter and bunched it up just so he could drag it up around them both. Then one arm slid forward so that his hand rested against her abdomen while the other shifted underneath her head to cradle her against his shoulder while still giving her full access to her pillow. His larger frame curled around her almost as if he protected her from the dark of the room.<br/><br/>“Sleep,” he agreed. “The morning will bring a new day.. and with that, we're going to have to talk about a few things.”<br/><br/>The euphoria of the night slipped into his subconscious as he eventually nodded off to sleep with his mind spinning round, yet with the rest of him oddly at ease.<br/><br/>When the next morning roused him, he made like a cat from the tangle of limbs and sheets that made up the two of them. In other words, he slunk from the bed carefully, so that he wouldn't wake her when he left the warmth of their temporary test. He had plans, after all.<br/><br/>Once she did finally wake, it would be to the smell of coffee and<i>something else </i>wafting through the air. The man had taken it upon himself to at least begin the day with a strong brew, though the second thing he was whipping up was a far cry from breakfast. Her breakfast, perhaps. As someone who threw the word<i>chemist </i>around liberally, he had followed the cliché and concocted a potion that would make Walter White weep from envy. The fact that he had the added benefit of being in a witch's residence only made his job easier. Overwhelmingly, the smell of mint mingled with the darker overtures of the coffee. While heat was working its own magic in the kitchen, James had sat himself in one of her chairs with nothing but a pair of boxers and her ancestor Adella's heirloom of witchcraft. His focus was intent on the weathered pages as his eyes strained to remember the gibberish of his own notes in the fringes of the volume.<br/><br/>“Tell me. Do you know what it takes to<b>kill </b>a demon, Lane?” He drawled the question casually once she emerged from the bedroom without even looking up from the book.