7. In Which Being A Sober Vampire Still Sucks

ELLIOT was careful not to breath too heavily as Rhen ran the sharp razor blade along the grain of his cheek. He had had a horrible realization that morning when he rubbed the sleep from his face. For the first time in years, he needed to shave. He vaguely remembered his counselor from rehab explaining what happened to vampires that stayed sober: they began to age again. This meant he would have to deal with a whole host of things that he hadn't had to think about since he was a normal human being. Such as shaving.

Unfortunately, just because he was no longer drinking blood, that didn't mean that he was no longer a vampire. He still needed to be invited into private residences in order to pass the threshold, and he still couldn't see his reflection, hence the need for a personal barber. Of course, there were other aspects of being a vampire that disappeared with the prolonged absence of blood that Elliot sorely missed, like being fast and strong. He was still faster and stronger than most humans, but he suspected that the werewolf could do some serious damage if they ever faced off in a fight.

Elliot felt Rhen's hand quiver as she scraped the skin above his upper lip. She straightened up and leaned against the bathroom sink. The genie wiped her brow which had begun to sweat, and laughed nervously. "I was just thinking that it's a good thing you can't die in case I accidentally slip and take a chunk out of your aorta."

"True," he said slowly. Her shaking hands did little to inspire his confidence. "But let's try really, really hard not to do that, okay?"

"Right," she said and breathed deeply before she bent over and took his face in her hands again. "I was just, uh - posing a what if scenario. You know, just in case." She laughed again, as if to reassure him that she was only joking.

Elliot chuckled along with her, "Hey, Rhen?"

She grinned crookedly, and seemed a little more relaxed. "Yeah?"

"Don't cut me!" he snapped. The genie jumped at his harsh tone, and thankfully managed not to knick his jaw.

"I won't, I promise," she said quickly. It took a couple of minutes for her to calm down again. A few close calls later, she said a little dejectedly, "I'm surprised you didn't ask Rudy or Max to do this." Elliot had to muster all of his self-control not to roll his eyes. He hadn't meant to hurt her feelings, but she clearly did not understand the discomforts of being a starved vampire experiencing blood loss.

Instead, he said, "Why would I want Max or Rudy holding a sharp object this close to my face?" That at least made the corners of her lips twitch upward. As the silence stretched on, Elliot sighed and finally bit the bullet. "Sober vampires are prone to anemia," he admitted. "Losing any amount of blood is uncomfortable, because it takes forever for our bodies to generate our own blood cells."

Rhen frowned, and paused to look him in the eye. "That sounds awful."

He shrugged carefully, noting how close the genie was holding the razor suspended in front of his face. "It's not so bad, as long as the stylist is pretty." Rhen blushed and stood up to wash the razor blade in the sink. "So as soon as I find one, you're off the hook," he added with a roguish grin. Rhen's jaw dropped, and he laughed at her dumbfounded expression.

"Elliot! You son of a…" She hurled the razor at him and stomped out of the bathroom. He caught it, but just barely, and grimaced as the blade sliced through the skin of his palm. He stuck his wounded hand in the sink and winced. He really needed to remember that teasing the genie generally ended in pain.

He remembered the way her cheeks flushed crimson whenever he pushed her buttons.

He decided it was worth a little pain.