“Baz, I hate to say this, but…” I’m grinning at him, and I can hardly believe it. Like, I really expected to be miserable for days after breaking down so completely. But somehow I’m still here, and he’s still here, and even though I still feel like a hopeless case, this thing between us doesn’t feel hopeless at all.

Plus, as soon as Baz is unhappy, that’s all I can think about. I’m crazy about all his little fretful faces, and I also want to be the thing that chases them away. I think I might be willing to make him miserable just for the thrill of making it better. That’s fucked up, isn’t it?

I dip my head to find his eyes.

“I just want to be with you,” I say. “And this is where we are now. I’m a broken-down mess, and you’re a rat-drinking monster.”

We walk down an alleyway near Baz’s flat. We won’t have to go far, he says; London has rats everywhere, some of them the size of cats.

“Does it have to be rats?” I ask. “They’re so gross.”

Baz is pulling on a pair of tan leather gloves. “What else does the city provide for me? House pets? Pigeons?”

“You could breed mice. Clean ones, like in a laboratory.”

“Oh, that’s good, Snow. I’ll have a flat full of pink-eyed mice in glass enclosures. That won’t be creepy.” He leans over and snatches a rat by its tail, then brains it against a brick wall.

“Christ,” I say. “It’s already well creepy.”

Baz sneers at me. “You’re the one who wanted to come. I told you it was disgusting.”

I grin at him. “I’m happy you let me come. We could do this together. On the regular. I could help you hunt.”

“I don’t need your help.” He starts walking again.

“Aren’t you gonna drink that one?”

“I wait and drink them all at once. It’s neater.” He frowns at me. “You don’t get to watch me drink.”

“You already said that.” Back at the flat, when he agreed to this.

“I can hear you getting ideas.” Baz crouches, darting his hand into the gutter to grab another rat.

“Merlin, you’re good at this.” He catches another one while I’m saying it.

“Practice,” he says.

“Must have been nice in the country. Proper hunting. Deer.”

He kills the rats and moves on. “It did feel more wholesome.”

I trail after him. “Will you live in the country after uni?”

“Will you?”

“I don’t know why you haven’t given up on animals altogether.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the American vampires just drink people, don’t they?”

He scowls at me over his shoulder. “I’m not a murderer, Snow.”

“Lamb said you don’t have to murder people. You can just drink.”