"Ma souricette? You're awful quiet," he said in that deep voice, soothing yet gruff all at once. "Do you regret our agreement? You can change your mind."

Her heart melted. When he calls me his little mouse, I just can't...!

"No, I'm grateful," replied Sylvia with a twang of her heart. "I want to use this power for good. I refuse to sit here on my ass, living off the state because no one wants me."

"I want you!"

Sylvia's jaw dropped and Jean-Pierre cleared his throat.

"I mean, I'm here for you." He sighed in resignation. "Why don't you meet me at home after work? We can discuss the next idea, and you'll feel much better."

"I'll go to the bar first," she muttered in reply. "Feed off of some free-floating misery so that you're not in any danger from me."

He chuckled. "What do doctors say about eating too much junk food?"

"I'm serious, JP."

Jean-Pierre's voice turned solemn. "We got you out of trouble once. I'm not sure we could swing it again. Please be careful in public, will you?"

"I won't go indoors. Trust me, their dreams are potent even from the outside." Sylvia spoke through gritted teeth. "If I don't feed now, I'll fucking lose it. Then we will have a problem."

"Okay, ma souricette. I trust you."

She smiled. That was one reason she loved him. He did trust her and let her make her own decisions. Lead her own life. That forced her to make the right choices rather than avoiding them altogether. It helped her to keep some semblance of her humanity and autonomy.