The two sat in wicker chairs on her screen porch. Fireflies danced outside in the warm summer night, their jeans creaked whenever they moved. It was a little warm for jeans, but even if Ruth could see herself standing to change into something more comfortable, she wouldn't. Something about talking to someone who looked eighteen or so, even though she knew he wasn't, made her feel that much older. And therefore, more self-concious of the assets she never intended to bare again.
Elliot however, looked quiet comfortable as he lounged idly beside her. Perhaps vampires didn't have body heat, she'd never asked. His posture was odd in junction with his body, lanky limbs folded in a bizarre sort of grace. And while not a slave to modern fashions he clearly knew what they were. His hair in his eyes really perfected the illusion of being a teenager, if you got past his body language. While he was not unusually attractive, he gave the impression of having alot of practice making what he had look good. It didn't change much over the years.

The two were talking, idly, as people do on hot summer nights, when the options are talk or watch the perspiration glide down the sides of their glasses of lemonade. It felt odd to offer the vampire a cup, but it would have felt odder for Ruth not to.
And, as happens when people talk idly, the discussion fell to one of the various basic topics. Tonight's was the economy.
"This is a recession, not a depression." he corrected. "Depressions are worse." She chuckled nervously.
"I keep forgetting you were there."
"That's understandable." he answered idly, leaning back in his chair.
"Must have been a hell of a time to grow up."
"Mostly? It was a hell of a time to die."
"Well, yeah but-" she turned on her companion, "-that's not what I meant. Not really." He shrugged.
"Well, you know how it was. I told you about Mary, right?"
"Your sire, right? Worked in a mission?"
"That's the one." he nodded. "I swear she must crossed every other kid that went through. Sweet girl, but dumb as a brick."
"Do you still keep in contact?"
"Can't. People dumb as a brick who need to avoid sunlight don't live long in Miami."
"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that."
"Feh. She told every kid she crossed they'd need to drink blood and avoid sunlight to survive. It's her own fault she couldn't keep her own curfew." he muttered. Then he sighed.
"Sorry, Ruth." Elliot muttered. "You don't need to hear about my issues with my sire. We were never close, anyway."
"I don't mind. An unpleasant answer is the least I could expect after asking an unpleasant question."
"If you're worried about offending me, don't."
"How'd you get through it?" she asked.
"I did the same thing anyone else did." he shrugged. " There were some people who'd had some altercations wit the law or someone else traveling through every group, so no one really thought it was odd. So what if I slept under bridges during the day and travelled at night? So what if no one saw me eat much? No one ate much."
"So... have you ever killed anyone?" she asked.
"Well, I was in World War Two. What do you think?" he smiled to himself. "I think I was about the only person who lied about their age to enlist and said they were younger than they were." Ruth frowned.
"Now that wasn't what I meant at all, and this time you knew it."
He sighed and ruffled his hair.
"The human body contains about six quarts of blood, right?" he began. "And the human stomach, and therefore the vampire one as well, can only hold about eight pints. And that's if you're trying, and haven't eaten at all in the past, dunno week or so. You need to take four pints of blood to kill someone. This is, of course, not counting what they lose after you leave. They usually either pass out or freak out."
"So it's possible?" she asked.
"Possible, yes. But I'd like to see you drink four pints in one sitting."
"Doesn't Fred downtown do that every night?"
"Fred doesn't have to hold the beer still and keep it from screaming. And he takes all night at it, with piss breaks." he answered, staring at her directly. Embarassed, Ruth folded her hands and looked out at the fireflies.
"Sorry. You probably don't like talking about this."
"Eh." he said idly. "Are you talking about drinking blood or Fred's piss breaks?"
"Either way, I'm sure we'd both appreciate a change of subject."
"True indeed." There was a lull in conversation, but it wasn't awkward. The two soaked in the night, still as if it were too tired to be anything else after the heat of day, the smell of wet grass and the blinking of the fireflies. The crickets sang, and the scent of some shade-blooming flower lazily mounted the air.
"It's a lovely night." Ruth mentioned idly.
"Mm." Elliot agreed, closing his eyes. "It does make me appreciate what benefits vampires do have. I don't care if this sensitive nose was meant to track fallen blood on the ground, or if I only have sharp hearing so that I can catch the breathing of hidden prey. Tonight, all I have to hear is crickets and an old friend. It's an excellent use of these ears."
"I bet you don't tire out so easily as I do, either." she laughed. "Lucky."
"Only my body's young, Ruth. And the fatigue of attempting to keep up a conversation with someone who looks my age..." he rolled his eyes.
"I don't think it's the conversation most vampires worry about keeping up when dealing with teen girls." his companion replied with a smile. Expelling a syllable of shocked laughter, Elliot turned his head.
"Ruth..." he chided.
"Come now Elliot. You don't get to be a grandmother without having children first, and you know as well as anyone what that means." she answered with a smile. He smiled back.
"Contrary to popular belief, meaningless sex with teenage girls does get old."
"Still, it has to beat the alternative."
"Do you refer to celibacy, or dating women my own age?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yes, it does. Quite a bit actually. Most women my age are quite dead and I have no interest whatsoever in them." Elliot pulled a face so comically incongruous with the rest of the conversation, but bizarrely fitting with his face, that Ruth had to chuckle. The chuckle turned into a cough, which lasted long enough that the vampire straightened in his chair, posed to take action to help her. A blue-veined hand waved him away.
"Now now, Elliot." Ruth chided. "Just because I'm old doesn't mean I'm going to die every time I cough."
"You only need to do it once." he replied, sinking back into his wicker chair. "I don't have enough friends to lose them to coughing fits."
"There's life in me yet, don't you worry." she sighed contently. "Hm. What were we talking about?"
"Teenage girls, I believe."
"Ah, yes." she nodded. "They must be tiring if you'll spend your evenings talking to an old biddy like me. I'd think at least you'd want to spend time with them for the aesthetic value."
"What are you talking about?" he scoffed. "You're very pretty." She laughed at that.
"I'll take 'attractive', but I think you give up the right to be called 'pretty' at forty-five."
"You're a very well preserved woman, Ruth." he replied. She rolled her eyes at him.
"I don't think anyone counts as well preserved around you." she chided, turning her face to the fireflies again. Elliot stared at her for a moment, then whispered.
"I still think you're pretty, Ruth. And even if you weren't, I wouldn't care." Her sagging bosom rose for a moment, then slowly deflated.
There was a moment of silence. Elliot rubbed his neck and leaned back in his chair.
"...this is..." she said at length, "Kind of awkward."
"Yeah." he agreed causally. "But I have been dating for seventy years." She turned her head to face him. His falsely young face was smiling, a smile even older than her own. It startled her.
"And it never stops being awkward. Not the kind worth having." he said softly. Ruth chuckled.
"That's one thing you'll never understand, dear boy." she smiled. "Some of us don't have the energy to be awkward."
"We're just a couple of old farts, aren't we?" she sighed.
"If you say so, dear." he answered idly, eyes closed.
The two of them sat back in their chairs and watched the fireflies move idly through the air over her back yard. Neither of them could tell you who moved first, in fact they didn't remember changing position at all; but they couldn't help but notice how their hands had found each other. Hers not yet dotted with age but with the tendons and veins quite visible under skin loosing it's elasticity, his still smooth and soft as a teen's, but nearly as pale as the white cuff of his shirt.
Fingers entwined, too warm and tired to move; they stared into the summer night.