"So he kissed you and just... left?" Davina asked, looking at the me in confusion. "Why the hell would he just leave?"

I looked at my young friend wearily and shrugged, rubbing a hand over my tired face. Marcel was out and about, doing whatever it was that he did while Davina stayed in her attic like a good little witch, thus letting me go unnoticed by the man. It'd been too long since I had found a friend that wasn't male or related to the man of which I had just kissed, was in dire need of some good, old-fashioned girl talk, and Davina was my only option. And after appearing in her room and making her swear on her life not to tell Marcel (in service of those of which she loved) I wasted no time in spilling my guts.

"I don't know," I sighed in exasperation. "I mean, one minute we're arguing, and the next..."

"His mouth is attacking yours."

"Exactly."

"But what about the other guy?" Davina asked, sitting up a little more. "Dylan, or whatever. I thought you liked him!"

"I thought I did too!" I groaned. "But when his lips were on mine... it was like Dylan never existed."

"Ugh! Your life is so dramatic," Davina whined. "I'm still stuck in this attic."

"First of all: sick rhyming skills you got there, 'Vina." I laughed. "Second of all, you don't want my life. Even I don't want my life."

"You made out with the hottest guy ever and are dating the close second. I would kill for your life."

"I thought you hated Klaus?"

"Hatred isn't blind, Opey."

I laughed at her raging hormones, thrown off by her words. I mean, I knew that she knew what he looked like and that she thought that he was hot, but I didn't expect that.

"That still doesn't explain why he just left." I pointed out.

"Maybe it's because you're sharing a body with his dead ex, among other things."

"Good point. Still weird, though."

"Yeah, so is sharing a body."

"Touché."

It was silent between us, both deep in contemplation of the situation.

"What comes next?" I asked myself. "Our relationship just reached the level where we're not at each other's throats and we're comfortable with one another. I don't want to throw that away, and I especially don't want to start over. I hate starting over."

"Then act as if it never happened."

"Oh, but it did, 'Vina. It happened. Big time."

"Well then act like it didn't."

"Why would I do that?"

"So you can continue with your recently tangible relationship with the bastard."

"It wouldn't change the fact that it happened."

"But it would make him see that you don't want it to happen again. If you act like it was nothing, then he'll think it was nothing. Simple."

"But what if I want it to happen again?"

"Then kiss Dylan goodbye and say hello to the Original Hybrid."

"Life is hard."

"No it isn't. Boys are hard."

"Boys can sod off!" I exclaimed. "But sick innuendo."

"What?! Ophelia!"

"What? You said it, not me."

"You always have to turn everything into a joke, don't you?"

"It's the only coping mechanism I have."

But, alas, the conversation was cut off by the sounds of someone calling for the teen and footsteps coming up the stairs of the attic, sending both of us girls into a little bit of a panic.

"I'll see you later, 'Vina." I mouthed, knowing no matter how quietly I whispered, Marcel flippin' Gerard would be the one to hear it. "I'll pop back in soon."

"Go!" Was her reply.

And without another second of hesitation, I teleported myself back into my humble little apartment, where I was welcomed by a very comfortable looking Elijah Mikaelson, who was flipping through a book absentmindedly, giving me the fright of my life.

"Jesus, Eli!" I erupted, holding a hand up to my rapidly beating heart.

"Someone's jumpy," He spoke, flipping the page without meeting my gaze. "Where have you been?"

"With a friend."

"Dolan?"

"It's Dylan," I corrected, rolling my eyes. "And no, with another friend."

"Niklaus?"

At the name, my eyes widened slightly, but I smoothly and quickly composed myself and continued with the conversation.

"Nope. Not him, either."

"I wasn't aware that you had any more friends."

"Rude!"

"Honest is the politically correct term, Ophelia."

"I wasn't aware that this was an interrogation, Shakespeare."

"It isn't. Just an observant man who has noticed his friend acting very jumpy and is even more so worried for her safety and well-being."

Sighing and knowing that he was speaking the truth, I felt herself compelled to give him the truth of my own.

"I was with Davina."

"Marcel's witch?"

"Yes. She's lonely, misguided, targeted, in the care of a vampire, and a witch, so we get along swimmingly."

"I can only imagine." He spoke, shutting the book. "Is everything okay, though? You seem... different."

Nodding wordlessly, I smiled a little bit in his direction for reassurance, even though the both of us knew that I was lying for his sake. And for my sake, he let me. Standing, he walked over to where I was stood and placed a peck on my forehead, letting my rigid body relax ever-so-slightly in his embrace.

"Get some rest, darling." He spoke after a bit. "I'll be here when you wake."

"But―"

"Rest," He insisted. "I can tell you had a rough night just by looking at you. Go to bed and all will be well. Even witch queens need to recharge."

Nodding begrudgingly, I trudged my way to my bedroom and plopped down, feeling the exhaustion catch up to me. But before I allowed myself to succumb to it, I spoke once more.

"Don't call Niklaus."