Paxton wasn’t even sure that going to that light would bring him to Raven Remington’s side, but it was the only source of light he could see, and he was quite sure that it was in the direction he’d taken when walking away.

Setting his bag’s down by the door, Paxton started carefully forward, heading for that square of light, which suddenly seemed so far away. He had no idea if the way was clear or not- he hadn’t really looked around before losing the door- but he hoped there was nothing to trip over along the way. If there was, he would certainly find it. Raven paused in the center of his kitchen and peered around in the illumination of the nightlight. He wasn’t quite sure what to do. He never had guests, or at least hadn’t had them for hundreds of years. What did one do with them, exactly? After an inner debate, he moved to the stove, grabbed the teakettle that sat on the burner, and took it to the sink to fill with water. After setting it on the stove and cranking the dial to high, he found the teapot, some tea bags and a full sugar bowl. He set it all haphazardly on a tray.

He would offer Paxton a cup of tea. Once that was done, so was he.

Hunger drew him to the refrigerator. Light spilled out into the room as he opened the door, making him blink after the previous darkness. Once his eyes adjusted, he bent to pick up one of two lonely bags, of the two lonely bags of uncooked fresh animal meat on the middle shelf. Other than those bags, there wasn’t a single solitary item inside. The cavernous white box was empty. Raven wasn’t much for cooking. His refrigerator had pretty much been empty since his last house keeper died. He didn’t bother with a glass. Instead, still bent into the fridge, Raven lifted the meat bag into his mouth and stabbed his fangs into it. The cool taste of life immediately began to fill his mouth and as he swallowed the cool taste of life into his system, taking the edge off his crankiness. Raven was never so cranky as when his protein and blood levels were low.

“Mr. Remington?’

He jerked in surprise at the query from the doorway. The action ripped the bag he held, sending the crimson fluid of the blood from the animal meat spraying out all over him. It squirted in a cold shower over his face and into his hair as he instinctively straightened and banged his head on the underside of the closed freezer compartment. Cursing, Raven dropped the ruined bad of animal meat onto the refrigerator shelf and grabbed for his head with one hand, slamming the refrigerator door closed with other.

Paxton Booth rushed to his side. “Oh, my goodness! Oh! I’m so sorry! Oh!” he screeched as he caught sight of blood coating his face and hair. “Oh, God!” you’ve cut your head. Bad!

Raven hadn’t seen an expression of such horror on anyone’s face since the good old days when lunch meant biting into a nice warm neck of humans and ripping apart there flesh rather than a nasty cold bag of fresh animal meat soaked in blood. Seeming to recover his senses somewhat, Paxton Booth grabbed his arm and urged him toward the kitchen table. “here, you’d better sit down. You’re bleeding badly.” I am fine,” Raven muttered as he settled him into a chair. He found him concern rather annoying. If he was too nice to him, he might feel guilted into being nice back. “where's your phone?” he was turning on one heel, scanning the kitchen for the item in question. “why do you wish a phone?” he asked hopefully.