"I got them by accident and refuse to admit defeat. Besides, one of my favorite horror writers was known for his romantic poetry. He... was a deeply passionate and troubled man. Died of rabies, apparently," Annie says, looking up at him with a soft smile.

She can't get over how they work together. He is older than her, but sometimes she forgets. He doesn't act like she expects a thirty-year-old to. Annie supposes being immortal and probably traumatized by war did a number on him.

"It takes time for me too." She doesn't know why this is so easy. "Usually it takes me weeks. I crush on people easily. People are interesting, and I guess I love them for it.... I thought I might fall in love with you. I knew it was possible. You're very charming. And...You made the things in my head quite down. I felt like I was myself again. There's still so much I want to tell you. We have time."