Even though it had only happened twice before, he could see this becoming a regular occurrence all too easily. Through no fault of his own, Rabbit found himself involved in something questionable; Liv, obviously aware that said questionable activities had gone on, said nothing; and Rabbit avoided her, or at the very least, avoided those questions.

He didn't even know why he was trying this time, not when it was obvious he had been right in the middle of it all. If the long, shallow scratches on his arms hadn't given it away, his actual plans to head to Blackfriars that afternoon that everybody knew about might have tipped somebody off. His sister remained silent on the matter. Rabbit avoided her like she'd contracted Captain Trips. All was right with the world.

Ten days later he had a dream, the first normal one he'd had since he'd set foot in the other world months before. A werewolf was chasing him, its mouth too small for its hundreds, no, thousands of teeth, and he was out of breath, his lungs working harder than he'd asked them to in ten years. He was sobbing with the effort of keeping ahead of the creature, but no matter how hard he ran, it wasn't enough. He sat up with a gasp when the claws grazed his leg, opening a short cut on his calf that persisted into the waking world. All right. Maybe it hadn't been a normal dream after all.

He burst from his room in a clumsy shuffle after brushing shaking fingers across the eggs—one, two—and grabbing a cigarette from his nightstand. Liv was waiting for him in the living room, not intentionally, but there she sat, eating ice cream and watching a late night half hour infomercial.

"Hey."

"Hi, Rabbit." She grinned at him as if he hadn't just spent a week and a half giving her the silent treatment. He couldn't help smiling back.

"You're out here by yourself?" There had been a time, not too long ago, when she wouldn't have even considered getting in and out of her chair without him there to help her. He supposed things changed.

"You sleep like the dead. And sometimes I get the uncontrollable urge to know more about Slap Chop." She touched the cushion next to her. "Sit with me?"

He sat, tucking his feet under him and ignoring the sting of the slice on the back of his leg. "Olivia. I know you know I was at Blackfriars."

"Mmhm. There was some drugged up guy stabbing people."

Rabbit was shaking his head before she'd stopped speaking. "No, there was a werewolf. I saw him." He hadn't, but he thought it lent his story credibility.

"Did you really?"

There was a pause. Then, "No. I mean, yeah, I did, but not up close. I do know it sure as hell wasn't a guy on drugs, not unless he also had a real realistic Wolverine costume on. The cops around here lie more than the ones back home. They've been covering s**t up for months now." Rabbit sighed. "It wasn't some normal crazy person. It was like..."

"Like the Heliodora thing."

"Yeah. Like the Heliodora thing."

"And the mansion."

"Yes. Just... Don't believe them, okay? This place is weird, and I want you to be safe. Stay close to Jim, I guess. He's so boring that anything magic's gonna slip right off."

"Hey..."

"Hey, what? I've been good lately, haven't I? If I can't tell you your boyfriend's got nothing going for him behind his back, then when can I tell you?"

She snorted and shook her head. "You're right. You might, like, never tell me these things."

He considered apologizing, but when he saw her smirk, the impulse to do so fled. Rabbit scooted closer and rested his head on her shoulder. He was immediately captivated by the onion slaughter still flashing across the television.

"Just be careful around here, yeah?"

"I will."