North Glenn 
 Perhaps the most selfish part of Dante would have liked for her to kill him. That would make just as much of a mess, if not worse, as running. Turning him seemed... also not great. His brow furrowed together, and he paused for a moment of thought. "I don't understand how that would help." It was less an outright shut down of her idea, and more of a doubtful question. Baby steps.

 "I'm not sure if it would." It probably did nothing to spark a sense of trust, to cultivate any optimism, but if nothing else it was the truth. " I just figured, it would maybe shift the balance of power little. He works in a high-stress job, he would need some sort of guidance I'd imagine." Someone or something to help him from shifting in the middle of a squad meeting when a cheese danish wasn't enough to hold him over.

 "Even on the best day, I'm sure he'd lose his job if anyone found out. I don't think that the FBI is very interested in publicly outed were's at their disposal this early in the game." Good old-fashioned blackmail, a familiar and trustworthy fall back.

 He liked the plan as she spelled it out, but also... didn’t. It could backfire. Surely a highly trained agent could pose a threat to her life. He could picture it now, Alex meaning to bite the shit out of this cop and getting a bullet to the head. That was not great.

 Dante moved his jaw in thought, taking his hands from her to lace them behind his head. "They would fill his position. Someone would fall in and pick up right where he left off." Particularly bad news if they knew as much about her as she claimed. "Just... don’t do that." There. He resigned himself to disapproval.

 "Okay ... well, what do I do?" A little sharper now, more frustrated than outright angry. It felt like she ran into a wall anyway she turned - the space that was her own slowly and steadily dwindling to nothing. "I can't just play dead and hope he loses interest." Slowly, she pulled herself up - knees stiff as she scooped up her shirt and tugged it over her head.

 Dante felt a similar well of frustration bubble up as she turned the question on him again. His hands came from behind his head to rub down over his face, pulling briefly at the skin beneath his eyes. "I don't fucking know, Alex," he sighed, his tone more exhausted than angry. "Maybe just. Wait a little longer. Think on it." He backtracked a little then, leaning forward to rest his weight on his knees as the throbbing in his head began to ebb away. "Or maybe... Turning him is. I don't know. That sounds like a handful at best."

 "My concern is that the longer I wait, the more people will learn about me and the longer this stain of a mess will have to set." Like there was a clock, unseen but heard, ticking down against her. Possibly paranoia, maybe just a reasonable bit of forethought. "It could backfire, yeah - but ..." She hesitated then, chuckled.

"Know any friendly vampire hitmen?"

 Turning this agent that had sniffed her out would definitely backfire, now that he thought about it. Agent Smith exploding into a feral dog in the conference room would undoubtedly trickle right back to the feral dog on his leash. Why wouldn’t it?

 He breathed a short chuckle at her question, but was still trying to think. Wasn’t there a pack wolf who was a cop? He rubbed his jaw. Maybe there could be some correlation there, but... there was no way in hell he wanted a pack wolf being outed in that kind of light. It was as dangerous as this. Maybe worse.

 "I could kill him. But that might lead back to you too." A lot of hit crimes went on unsolved, but still. Ugh. "Maybe some... serendipitous thing will happen and I can save his life from a vamp and get my hands washed." Fat chance. Dante rose to his feet as he spoke, now that all this seriousness had served as a proper bonerkill. He considered the woman before him almost tenderly. "If I can help in any smart way. You know. Hit me up."

 "That would be almost too convenient, wouldn't it?" Unless she pretended she didn't know the Were who saved the day. Which, was a whole nother set of headaches and long nights that she didn't want to entertain. "Anyway, I'll ... figure something out." Settling with leaving it at that as she closed in again, pulled him into a tight hug and stayed there for a second longer than she would normally. "Sorry."

 Yeah. Dante huffed a breath at her response. She would figure it out. It left him with a sort of curtain of guilt, now, after all of this. Wasn't there something he could do? Another part of him rebelled against that notion. He'd done nothing to cause this. That didn't fucking matter.

 She was moving, squeezing her arms around him, and he returned the embrace immediately, holding her tightly. "Don't be," he muttered into her hair. "You're doing great." He grimaced a little at himself as he pressed his cheek into her hair again. That sounded so cheesy, but he was trying to be helpful. Encouraging. Sigh.

 "I should uh. I should go now." A hand rose to stroke down her hair even as he said it. "I won't leave you hanging. I promise."

 "Likewise, I'll let you know if shit starts popping off." A strange sort of pride swelling in her chest when he had reassured her, one that was just as annoying as it was nice. To be noticed and applauded, and then the sting of realization that she wanted that at all. "Miss you, or whatever." Sliding her hands into her pockets and keeping them there as she shuffled towards the door to see him off.

 All of this was just weird in so many ways. Dante huffed a half-hearted laugh, releasing her and moving slowly to the door with her. "Yeah. You too." It was missing a few words, really, but the feeling was there. He put his hand on the knob, and bent down to give her a small kiss; nothing too deep or intense, but something of a message to leave her with before he pulled open the door. One more lingering glance, and a "see ya" before he made to turn away, wandering towards his truck like a small child who was going to clean his room against his will. He was suddenly exhausted.

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