Steaks and Stakes

(ooc: it took me SO LONG to reply that it got deleted. I deserve it.)

A great grown filled Charlie's room.

The redhead rolled over, her hand flopping across the edge of the bed and her balled up sheets finally tumbling to the floor. She raised her head groggily, nose seeking the source of the heavenly aroma of freshly cooking steak. Charlie's back ached in protest that she had barely gotten three hours of sleep that night. The Dyllan had never been a fan of wolfsbane - while she might have occasionally caused a bit more damage than she had intended at least she was able to lose herself, let go of control, and feel unspeakably free. But being kept on a leash made the Ministry (and more importantly Jack) making her willing to sacrifice.

Charlie stretched, letting her joints pop softly as they re-oriented themselves to her shrunken figure. She could have used another hour or two of rest but the smell coming from downstairs was enough to tempt her up. With the slightest bit of reluctance Charlie sat up and swung her legs over the side so her toes lightly brushed the pile of sheets on the floor. She stood, not bothering to pick up the mess, and cross the room to her new dresser. From here she could look out over the balcony on to the rest of the room (that still functioned as an office). As soon as Max finished packing up his stuff Charlie had every intention to expand her greenhouses indoors and store more than dusty paperwork in her room.

All things considered Max's old room was definitely an improvement from the one she had been staying in - one of the many perks of the Dyllan-Morrison marriage. While nothing had really changed it was clear to the children that everything had. Charlie watched the newlyweds with some amusement as they blundered their way through their days. It was almost physically painful to watch Max pine after her cousin and it was only with every once of her restraint that she kept from making inappropriate comments over dinner. Sunny was less controlled and Charlie had found several drawings of Jack and Max holding hands or with red hearts floating over their heads.

Charlie pulled on an old tank top and loose pants before making her way down the stairs and to the kitchen. Max had promised to pick her fluxweed during the full moon and while she did not doubt that he could be relied on to do so she worried about the condition her poor plants might have been left in after his unsupervised late-night visit. As the teenage Dyllan stepped into the kitchen thoughts of her greenhouse were momentarily placed aside as she was surprised by exactly who was doing the heavenly cooking. While Gabby was one of Layabout's most frequent visitors Charlie couldn't remember a time where she had been thrown into his company one-on-one for more time than a run to the liquor cabinet took.  

But here he was. Making breakfast. Or was it lunch?

"Hey" she greeted. The single word sounded more questioning than anything. "Is not at work or something?"

The thought of actually facing Charlotte Dyllan was becoming more and more frightening. He pan fried the steaks, trying to find a way out this situation that would not spell out danger for himself. Sticking around obviously meant facing the truth he was desperately trying to write off as chance or circumstantial evidence or delusion. Leaving meant that Charlie would awake to half cooked steaks and when she reported this to Jack, the elder Dyllan would know he had abandoned his post. Besides usual Jack anger, he would have to deal with her investigation into why he had left. He just was not sure how well he could withstand her questions.

Either way, he would potentially be facing this horrible truth. He know he needed to, for the sake of peace, but what was his status be in the Dyllan household when he was revealed to be the wolf that had turned Charlie, who had never done anything to deserve such a fate - as if anyone did. Gabby knew that the Dyllan-Morrisons did not consider lycanthropy a horrid curse, but surely they would have rather had Charlie avoid such a fate. As understanding as they were, a nonwerewolf was always more happy and healthy than a werewolf.

If Gabby could do that to Charlie, surely he wasn't safe. What could he do, would he do, to Jack? To Max?
To Sunny? He wouldn't like it, but he would understand being excommunicated from Layabout Lane. What else could they do - let the menace wolf into their home amongst their family? Of course not.

Charlie spoke and Gabby swore he could have let out a girlish scream if he had not been so steeped on heavy thoughts he did jerk noticeably, making he pan clatter against the stove. He turned, his feet rooted to his spot as his torso twisted to look at the young redhead addressing him. She looked tired and haggard - obviously recovering from the full moon. The full moon that might have never had any true effect on her. She seemed so young and so old at the same time. He had made her old with an ancient curse.

Gabby was no longer considering the idea that he had nothing to do with Charlotte Dyllan being a werewolf. He felt it in his bones. He had turned her. He had always know somehow, too.

He pulled off a typical Gabby grin. "Morning, sunshine. Take a seat. Jack dragged me in to be your chef. I'm making them extra rare - it helps. Max is at work, I think, and Jack didn't explain. Just cursed at me."  

He waved his wand, and some mead appeared, beginning to pour itself for himself and Charlie in two mugs. "This stuff is a wonder for transformations. One mug full to give you some inner fire. Then you're back on water and protein."  He pulled out two plates and began speared each steak, setting one on each plate. He began looking for the steak knives. "I trust you had an uneventful full moon?" So he hoped.