I looked fucking ridiculous. Dropped off near our date I stood wearing the same dress and jacket I had all day, my hair now done up, pulled into a bun that didn’t look like it’d been popular since the turn of the century. My dress, and the fact I was the only one smoking on the sidewalk, both served to only help in making me look even fucking more out of place.

  It was probably a sign I needed fashion advice from someone who hadn’t been dead a few hundred years, but that was a future Mary’s problem. As many problems as I was causing for everyone around me, I was probably going to be on my own no matter what as soon as they got tired of me.

  That thought swam around in my head for a bit, a weight on my chest, and I let it stand before trying to distract myself. The thought shifting to what sort of fabric or yarn I’d get from Calliope as soon as I got laughed at. Trying to decide between a nice sheep wool fabric for a couple dresses for this winter and an alpaca wool yarn for some accessories and maybe a shawl, until a voice behind me giggled and asked, “that you, Mary?”

  I nearly tripped, I spun around so fast, finding Barbie standing there with a coy smile on her face. Wearing a bright yellow dress with a large square scarf across her arms, gold cross necklace, her hair in a series of rolls, a pair of white gloves gripping her purse softly, she looked over at me with a look that made me almost forget to speak. My shoulders feeling a little lighter, a little weight on my chest leaving at the sight. When I did speak, I let out a few nervous noises and said, “um, yeah, sorry I look really ridiculous, I know. I just-”

  “You look great,” she interrupted, stepping forward as she tenderly reached out and adjusted the collar of my jacket. A small laugh escaping her all the same as I didn’t even care I won, “I forgot to bring your jacket, it’s tucked away in my dresser — I needed to hide it. I hope you don’t mind, I really like the new one though.”

  “I’ll pick it up later, if it ain’t no bother,” I admitted awkwardly, laughing a little nervously as I shifted in place, “this was…friend, friend was getting rid of it, but the other has a lot of sentimentality.”

  “It does have a rugged charm to it, little big on me though,” the woman admitted with a smirk, the thought of her wearing it doing something to my brain I couldn’t quite explain. A brief desire to bite her or be bit interrupted as she continued, “you know how to pick a date though, I love coming here.”

  “Well, figured you might,” I said slowly, laughing awkwardly as I led her into the blocky building we’d gathered in front of.

  The Virginia Museum of Fine Arts was one of the only big art museums I knew about, and the only one I’d properly been to in the past. Free, filled with art from all throughout history and different regions, no real order you were forced to walk through it, and somewhere you could spend ten minutes or several hours, it’d felt like the perfect choice. Barbie liked art, it was casual, and didn’t feel like a big commitment to go there.

  Starting out at older art, Greek, Egyptian, Native American, African, Barbie eventually excitedly gripped my arm and dragged me through a door into a section on Modern art. There, stopping at a piece that to me looked like a random gathering of colors and textures, she started explaining the techniques and styles.

  Not much I could understand, I nonetheless nodded along and tried to be as active a listener as I could. Asking questions on what terms meant, who people were, what was special about things. Eventually it led to me getting dragged painting to painting, and finally us sitting side by side on a bench as she continued on some tangent that started excited and turned annoyed soon after.

  Not even having looked at a piece of art in fifteen minutes as Barbie spoke, she hastily explained, “anyway yeah, Andy Warhol’s fucking over rated. I don’t even like Solanas’ writing and her shooting him still makes her a personal hero. Almost fucking dying’s the only real emotional attachment he ever showed for his-” the woman stopped herself, letting out a sigh and small laugh as she said, “I’m so sorry, I haven’t let you get a word in.”

  “It’s fine, I’m liking hearing you talk,” I admitted with a small laugh, “I mean, truth be told I never actually appreciated this section of the museum. You make it sound like one of the best parts. Well, except for the Warhol, didn’t know you would have such strong feelings for him.”

  Barbie nodded, a thin smile crossing her lips as she said, “I love a lot of old old art, but this? It’s meant to make you feel. Parks, portraits, myths, all that, capturing them in a realistic style’s impressive but mostly demonstrates skill. Modern art? It looks like nonsense if you brush it off, but it’s abstract, it’s representative, it’s so you can look at it and feel the emotion that went into it. Calling it lazy because it does that is like calling instrumental music lazy because they didn’t add lyrics.”

  I nodded, smiling as I hung onto her words, letting them sink in, until I asked, “what got you into all of this? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  The woman paused for a moment, almost looking embarrassed as she answered, “I told you my dad’s a priest. His church had this print of Davinci’s Last Supper in the hall, and these old bootlegging tunnels that went under the yard in the basement. For some reason I got really into sketching those tunnels, trying to copy the painting. Little kid me, trying to fucking sit in the dark copying stones or trying to make my own Davinci.” she laughed a moment, shaking her head awkwardly, “middle school and stuff I took art as an elective, got really into it in general. I bought my first sketchpad for myself with discarded change I picked up off the side of the road.”

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  “That’s cute,” I admitted, smiling at the story as I turned on the bench to better face her. “Always nice when people know what they want to do from when they’re young. I never really had any idea what I wanted to do with myself.”

  “You didn’t think you’d be working in an office, I take it?” Barbie asked with a giggle, “feels like one of those things you get into once you don’t care about the fun and fast stuff.”

  Well, that was a good point as well, though I’d been honestly thinking about the werewolf bit of my life. Grow up to be a monster hunter, and next thing I know I’m a fucking werewolf.

  “I was a bit of a disappointment to my dad,” I admitted, phrasing it as best I could.

  “You’re talking to the lesbian daughter of a priest, I’m used to that,” Barbie muttered softly, furrowing her brow as she shifted in her spot. “Are you, um… you know, you don’t need to be, but are you Christian? Just curious.”

  That was a complicated question, and part of me thought “I worship the Wolf Gods, ancestral gods of the werewolves,” wouldn’t be a good answer.

  Nonetheless, I kept my smile forced and told her, “I’m…pagan? Sort of? It’s complicated.”

  She nodded, seeming a bit confused by it, before finally telling me, “that’s fair enough. I…I have a complicated relationship with God, but I think of myself as Christian. I just…wanted to say, since some people kinda just assume the worse with my dad and stuff. It’s a comfort to me you’re not holding it against me, I don’t know how else to explain it. I mean, I just get a lot of comfort out of it sometimes, and a lot of it just feels like it applies to me.”

  “I get it, my religion has a few phrases and points I really like. I know one, goes something like, let you eat from her hand and lap from her water and sleep with her furs, for this is the love of wolves,” I said with a small laugh, almost immediately realizing how it sounded. “It’s less weird in context, about like, divine comfort. I’m so sorry, this is my first real date since…basically ever, first date with a girl, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  “It’s fine, you’re doing great,” Barbie comforted me with a boop on the nose, which surprisingly didn’t make the wolf growl, “I’ve always been a fan of romantic quotes myself. I like, Let her kiss me with the kisses of her mouth: for thy love is better than wine. Because of the savour of thy good ointments thy name is as ointment poured forth; therefore do the virgins love thee. Draw me, we will run after thee. Though I…I have to admit I’ve done a little editing to my preferences in that book.”

  I nodded, my face feeling warm and a moment later I realized I was blushing as I looked away from her. Maybe not so much the words themselves as Barbie’s purr behind them as she watched me smiling, “sounds nice.”

  “Yeah, technically my bible group growing up said you needed to be married to read that book, but I’m a bit of a rebel,” she giggled, pulling me to my feet as we kept walking through the paintings, “never seen a girl blush for Song of Solomon though. Not that used to getting flirted with are you?”

  “first time dating a girl, and it’s um… it’s been a bit since I’ve really had a chance for this sort of thing. Getting flirted with blatantly and often has been kinda rare,” I admitted, even as much as that felt like a lie with the people I’d dealt with. I should have spent some time in my room before the date, I wanted to hold her way too much at the moment.

  “Well, I’ll certainly see if I can’t change that.”

  We kept up our self-guided tour and Barbie continued to tell me about whatever she could with the techniques and artists. Stopping at one sculpture she spoke for a while, and I watched her with a smile even as my eyes darted to her hand.

  Deciding I deserved to act a little like this was a date, I reached out, taking her gloved hand in mine, feeling the warmth through it. She stopped her speech for a moment, squeezing my hand, and with a smile used her grip like a leash to bring me to the next artwork. Her impassioned explanations not breaking, she stood close to me, leaned against me in a light draping, rested her head on my shoulder as we stopped at each painting for a while.

  Eventually it started to get late, and the museum’s 9pm closure crept closer as we made our way out. Into the darkening streets outside, still holding hands as Barbie said, “I probably owe you dinner after putting up with all of that ranting.”

  “Hey, I liked listening to you,” I admitted nervously, giggling as we walked along a sidewalk, “dinner’s my treat, I’ve been getting paid pretty well.”

  Barbie nodded, and holding herself close she complained, “it’s cold out here.”

  I didn’t think it was, but I’d also spent a good portion of my life living out in the woods. Slipping off the red leather jacket I wore, I held it out for Barbie and she looked down at it for a moment with a coy smile before pulling it on. Too big for her, the sleeves covered most of her hands and the shoulders barely held onto her, even as she hugged it close with a broad smile.

  Fuck why did I have that urge to bite and be bitten again?

  “Thank you for this,” I told her, unable to take my eyes off her as I barely resisted the urge to pull her tight against me and kiss her, “I needed this.”

  “It was really nice,” she agreed, giggling as she quickly moved to hug my arm, making the wolf’s hair stand on end even as I quickly grew used to it. Her head on my shoulder, she asked, “can you drop me off at home after we eat? I walked here, but I'm not sure I want to walk all the way back in the dark, not that far.”

  “I got dropped off, but I can walk you. If anything happens, I’ll protect you,” I chuckled, feeling almost proud to make her the offer, a strange sense of warmth at the idea.

  Barbie stopped, and not wanting to drag her I did as well as I turned my head to look at her. Smiling up at me, a bright sense to her, she finally answered, “my hero,” with the sort of soft sigh that might have been humorous any other situation as she leaned up.

  Her lips met mine, her hands crept to my shoulders, and my arms slipped around her waist to pull her tight against me. Our bodies pressed together, the wolf for a moment feared what was happening and then no sooner melted into her, feeling like a dog wishing to encircle its owner. So sweet, so small in my arms, a perfect doll I could protect, easily snap the neck of and instead treat with love. A silence, a comfort, a peace I wasn’t used to in a long time coming through me.

  This was all happening too fast, I should have slowed down.

  I didn’t particularly care.