For three hours Hunter let himself be immersed into the world of the Dark Beast, an updated adaptation of the Beauty and the Beast tale following Dale Hobson, a young British man turned monster, fighting crime by moonlight and pursuing a romance with an American police detective named Bridgette Bell by daylight. The special effects were dated, and the soundtrack had heavy saxophone usage, but there was definitely some substance to it.

At the 3 hour mark, two students appeared at the door with several slices of homemade quiche lorraine. Grayson acquired four of them, securing their dinner for the evening. Hunter was beginning to wonder what strange bubble the Marconi house students lived in. There had to be some common thread that linked them.

"So..." Hunter tried to eat as slowly as possible. "Are there always free slices of quiche going around here?"

"Yeah. Martina and Sumire bake a lot. Martina is in Culinary, while Sumire is in Hospitality. They've been coming up here with food often, and I always wind up working out to burn it off."

"Wow. I wish I was assigned here."

"That would be awesome." Grayson smiled. "But why would you be assigned? I thought everyone picked their dorm."

"Uh, no." Hunter chewed. "No one chooses."

Grayson frowned. "But my Mom said--" He put two and two together. "Wait, of course she did. She had them put me in here."

"Lucky you. What'd she do? Slip the housing guys a twenty or something?"

Grayson looked crestfallen. ".....Probably not a twenty...That figures."

Hunter didn't know what to say. "Is she some kind of bigshot or something?"

Grayson poked at the quiche. "Yeah, you could say that."

The mood was turning sour. Hunter finished a slice and reached for the computer mouse.

"Well, that DVD isn't going to finish itself! I need to see if Dale can rescue Bridgette from that vampire's nightclub."

Grayson got up from the floor. "Ha. Cliffhangers are the worst. Let me put the next disc in."

In two hours time Dale and Bridgette befriended a witch, chased a Ripper-esque killer around London, defeated a minotaur, and sealed a dream demon.

As the credits rolled Hunter glanced at Grayson and saw a look of defeat.

"That's it." Grayson explained. "There was only one season."

"What!?" Hunter was shocked. "But we never even found out who cursed Dale in the first place! And what about that thing with the witches and the mermaids? And the informant who got lost on the astral plane?"

Grayson shook his head. "No explanation. The writers said online that if there's enough interest that the series could come back, but that was five years ago."

"Why have you done this to me?" Hunter asked in horror. "Now I'll be waiting to see if Dale and Bridgette can make their relationship work for the rest of my life!"

Grayson put the last DVD back in its case. "It's fun to watch, but if I was her I don't know if I could take it. I mean he's a little unstable sometimes. What if he flips out while she's asleep?"

"Oh." Something about that comment made Hunter nervous. "I mean, she would understand right? It's not exactly his fault."

"Mmhm. He needs to control his powers better."

"I'm sure he's trying. Stuff like that takes time to get used to." Hunter felt himself growing defensive of the brooding Dale.

"Exactly. I think he should have spent a little more time trying to figure things out. I mean she didn't know he was a monster until 3 episodes in. They had already slept together. What if something happened to her? He should have told her first."

Hunter rubbed the back of his neck. He was beginning to feel sick, and he wasn't sure if it was the quiche or the conversation. "Yeah...But I mean, I'm sure he wanted to tell her about the curse. Maybe he just didn't know how. I still..."

I still haven't told you anything.

"It's getting late." Hunter looked at the ceiling. "I should probably start heading back."

"Oh. Okay."Grayson looked at the tiny clock in the corner of the laptop screen. I'll walk you halfway, okay?"

"Yeah..."

Hunter was quiet as they walked across the dark campus. The grass crunched under his sneakers as they walked across the lawn. There were still plenty of people milling about, dotted around the landscape.

"Are you okay?" Grayson asked. "You've been quiet since we left."

"No." Hunter looked ahead.

Grayson stopped walking. "Are you mad at me?"

"What?" Hunter stopped as well, and looked back at him. "No way." His voice shook, and he tried to play it off. "I was just thinking of an assignment I gotta finish soon." He rubbed his arms. He could tell that Grayson wasn't buying it, but he started walking again anyway.

Once they were long past the 'halfway' point Hunter stopped again. "This is good, I think. I'm good from here."

Grayson's eyes fell on a guy taking excessively long strides in the grass while holding up a melon rind. He walked towards them.

He stopped a few feet in front of Hunter, who wrinkled his nose at the smell of habituals.

"Do you know why the grass grows?" the stranger asked.

"No?" Hunter replied, unsure if that was the right answer.

"Who will know?" The confused individual asked.

Hunter sniffed. This guy is higher than a kite. "Ask the chicken king." Hunter suggested, trying not to smile.

"The chicken king." The young man nodded. "I will find the chicken king." He wandered off, still holding up the melon rind.

Grayson crossed his arms. He did not find their exchange amusing. "I'm gonna walk you the whole way, just for peace of mind."

Hunter shrugged. Despite that humorous interlude he still wasn't back to high spirits. Watching Dark Beast and hearing Grayson's thoughts on the leads' relationship brought up several serious questions. Grayson was perfectly fine with sci-fi and fantasy, but how would he handle finding out Hunter was a werewolf?

They stopped outside the Howard, standing off to the side as residents went in and out. Hunter stood with his hands in his pockets, staring down at his shoes. "So...Goodnight."

Grayson towered over him like a gentle giant, concern all over his face. He was trying to figure out where things had gone wrong, but nothing was making any sense. His expression made Hunter feel even worse. He tried to patch things up with a short goodnight kiss, standing on his toes for a moment. He hoped Grayson took it as a sign that everything was okay. But as he let Grayson embrace him, he knew his stay on cloud nine was officially over.

Day 14. Sunday, Waxing Crescent

He spent his Sunday sending Grayson vague texts every few hours while considering how far their relationship could go. He had never had feelings for someone outside of his pack before. He had never considered what it would be like to introduce a normal person to his lifestyle. Relationships between Lycanthropes and humans were possible, he knew this for a fact.

His own mother was human, and like other non-lycanthropes, had adjusted to pack dynamics smoothly. Once a month she battled his mood swings, soothed his stress, and locked him up in the basement--just as she had done with his father. But he could see the toll it took on her from time to time. She was strong, but she was not unbreakable. When he was a child, there had been nights where he tried to wish and pray his Lycanthropy away so they could live a normal life. But the shifting came again and again, and he would awake bound and helpless, feeling he was her biggest burden.

Could he ask Grayson to be part of a life like that?