"What is this?"

Abner looked up from cleaning his rifle, the barrel resting against the inside of his thigh. "My ammunition."

Conrad glared at the neat rows of bullets lined up on his dining room table, each gleaming a different shiny color of blue, silver, or mahogany. His fingers twitched around the Macbook under his arm. "I get that, but why is it on my table?"

"I was organizing the rounds while I cleaned my gun."

The vampire's expression darkened. "Can't you do that on the floor? Or in the kitchen? Why does it have to be here?"

Silently, Abner reminded himself why he was here. It had been almost a month since he'd taken up his stakeout at Conrad's apartment in the hopes of cornering the vampire's sire, Adelaide. Living with the undead had taught him a lot of things that probably weren't useful, as Conrad appeared to be the worst vampire on the planet, but it hadn't been a total loss. There had been small clues that Adelaide might be watching her child, that she and Conrad were connected somehow, and Abner was certain that he would soon corner her and rid the world of her revolting presence.

But until the affront against nature could be removed… there was Conrad to deal with.

By now, Abner had grown more than used to his new charge's outbursts, and had quickly learned that unless he wanted to resort to violence, letting Conrad have his say was the best thing in a conflict. Conrad wasn't much of a vampire, but what he lacked in vampiric spirit he more than made up for with prissiness and perfectionism. Abner could appreciate the perfectionism, but the prissiness… not so much. Still, letting Conrad yell a bit was faster and ultimately less messy.

He tried to explain anyhow. Logic wasn't so easily put aside.

"The kitchen counter is too narrow, and there's nowhere to sit. The floor is dirty, and the light there is poor. I might misplace something."

"You couldn't misplace something if you tried." Conrad glared more, as if the intensity of feeling would make the bullets move, then suddenly shoved a hand under his glasses, massaging the bridge of his nose. "You know what, forget it. Whatever. Do what you want. You will anyway. I'm going to bed."

Abner glanced at his wristwatch. Besides telling him the date, the time (to the millisecond) and the position of the moon, it also told him when sunrise and sunset would occur. "You have over three hours until –"

"So? So? Do you think I'm going to find her in those three hours, magically, right now?"

"No. It's unusual, that's all – "

"So write it down!" Conrad snapped. He spun and left the table, stalking to his bedroom. The door slammed. Abner looked over his shoulder for Paradox, who was rolling on the couch with a stuffed toy Abner had gotten at the pet store. For a moment, Abner was caught by his cuteness, and almost forgot to comment on the vampire's behavior – not that it required commenting on. It had only been slightly off the norm. Conrad didn't often give up so easily.

"He's angry today," Abner finally remembered to observe in a low voice.

"I CAN HEAR YOU!" Conrad shouted from the other room.

Paradox made a sort of dollop of sound, rippled once in question, and went back to his toy.

Abner agreed. There wasn't anything they could do about it, and his gun still needed cleaning.. Sulking by the son did not mean that the mother might not appear. Whatever Conrad's pout, he would sort himself out tomorrow. Abner had to stay vigilant.

Conrad did not sort himself out.

The next evening, he didn't leave his bedroom until well after nine o'clock. Paradox, who'd posted himself outside of Conrad's door just before sunset, confirmed that the vampire didn't stir at all until then. It was… odd.

Abner sat in one of the dining room chairs, the table between him and the rest of the house, his revolver loose in its holster, and played Solitaire with Paradox's help. As usual, he had one eye on his activity, and one eye on the vampire. Conrad sat on the couch next to Paradox's abandoned toy, drinking absently out of one of his blood packets. If he noticed Abner's watchfulness, he didn't mention it. They didn't speak.

When he was finished, Conrad looked at the empty plastic bag as if wondering why he was holding it. Abner's watch counted off a full three minutes before the vampire rose and threw the thing into the biohazard bin in the kitchen.

"Bad?" Abner asked, trying for neutrality. He couldn't help the bit of disgust that seeped in, though he regretted it. Now was not be the time to antagonize his charge.

Conrad shook his head slowly as he came out of the kitchen, pausing to lean against the doorjamb. "No… not bad. Just…"

"Yes?" Abner prompted.

Conrad's eyes were on the table. "You've got a two of clubs there."

Abner didn't look down. His gaze was on the vampire's face. "I'll move it in a minute. I'm waiting to see what else I've got."

Conrad made an affirming noise, but he stayed looking at the tabletop. His vision seemed to turn inward, and he went that funny kind of still again. It was usually only very old – or very dead – vampires that could manage to pull that off. The ability to remain completely motionless, like a stone, was something they gained over time, usually after many years and many victims. Conrad, killer of no-one, should not possess the ability. Abner's right hand inched toward his gun.

Suddenly Conrad seemed to snap out of it, and his gaze flicked up, eyes meeting Abner's, their usual irritation restored. "Anyhow, I have work. Move your cards, would you? I'd like to use my table, if you don't mind." He pushed off the door and went to get his computer, and Abner was left exchanging a look with Paradox. The ferret slithered up his arm and onto his shoulder, clicking his teeth in the direction the vampire had gone. Abner had noticed the same thing.

Conrad had just finished eating, but his eyes hadn't turned red. They had remained stubbornly, completely brown.