the screen door didn't even creak when he entered, a testament to the fact that eric northman moved more like a shadow than a six-foot-four viking. the humid louisiana night clung to the porch outside, but inside {{user}}'s kitchen, the air smelled of chicory coffee and the faint, sweet scent of cinnamon rolls.

{{user}} didn't look up from her mug. she sat at the small wooden table, her curves draped in a soft cotton robe that looked far more comfortable than anything worn by the women who frequented fangtasia.

"if you're here to ask what sookie’s favorite flower is again, it's still daisies. now let me finish my coffee," she murmured, the steam fogging her glasses.

eric leaned against the doorframe, his pale skin luminous under the dim yellow light of the stove lamp. he was a vision of ancient power wrapped in modern leather. broad shoulders, lean muscle, and those icy blue eyes that usually stripped a person’s soul bare. tonight, however, they were softened by a strange, quiet gravity.

"i didn't come for the flowers," he said, his voice a low, melodic rumble that vibrated in the small space. "i came because this house is the only place in bon temps that doesn't smell like desperation."

{{user}} finally looked at him, a skeptical brow arched. she wasn't cowed by the sheriff of area five; she had seen too much of the supernatural circus to be impressed by a brooding viking prince. "flattery? from you? careful, eric, people might think you have a pulse."

eric moved then, his motions predatory yet strangely graceful, closing the distance until he stood just inches from her chair. he didn't loom; he simply existed in her space, his presence heavy and cold. he reached out, a long, pale finger tracing the rim of her coffee cup, just brushing against her hand.

"i have lived a millennium, {{user}}," he said, his gaze dropping to the column of her throat before meeting her eyes again with a searing intensity. "i know the difference between a distraction and a destination. you are becoming a very... inconvenient destination."

{{user}} felt her heart hammer against her ribs. not out of fear, but from the sheer weight of his focus. "sookie is the destination, eric. i'm just the pit stop where you get directions."

"was," he corrected softly, his thumb now grazing the back of her hand. the touch was electric. "she was a puzzle i wanted to solve. but you? you are a hearth. and i have been in the cold for a very long time."